


Ophiucus Rising

by Slybrarian



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Tok'ra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-14
Updated: 2010-06-14
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:10:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/94818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slybrarian/pseuds/Slybrarian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Critically injured during the Battle of Antarctica, Cameron Mitchell faces spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Sam Carter, his oldest friend and host to Jolinar of Malkshur, gives him another choice: become a Tok'ra host. He takes a chance and accepts. Now he must adapt to sharing his body with another person, even while trying to make a place for himself at Stargate Command.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ophiucus Rising

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Dossier for betaing.

Cam woke up.

It wasn't as simple as it sounded. It wasn't the kind of instant snap awareness of waking up in a war zone, nor the lazy transition after sleeping through the entire morning just because he could for once, or even the headache and inexplicable soreness in odd parts of his body that sometimes came after a night out with the guys. Instead he lay there in an almost dream-like state, not fully aware but not completely unconscious, drifting along in a world of his own. From time to time he would open his eyes and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes, and sometimes when he did so blurred faces would appear and say things to him that he couldn't quite quite understand.

Cam didn't know how long he stayed like that, but gradually he started to come out of that haze and settle into a state that would pass for wakefulness. He was aware that something wasn't right and felt that strange numbness that came with the application of heavy-duty opiods. With considerable effort he turned his head to see a familiar person sitting near his bedside and quietly reading a book aloud. It took him a minute to put a name with the face, and a few more minutes to slowly make the decision that maybe he should say something to her.

After several false starts, he finally managed to croak, "Hey, Sam."

"Cam!" Sam said, setting her book aside. "You're awake."

"Seems like it," Cam said.

"How do you feel?"

"Like I just spent a weekend in Venice," he said, referencing a trip they had taken while stationed at Aviano AB that had ended with epic hangovers for everyone involved. "What happened?"

Sam pursed her lips. "You don't remember?"

Cam tried to concentrate and eventually came up with an answer. "Antarctica. There was a battle. I... hit something with my plane." He frowned. "On purpose?"

"Something like that," she said with a nod. "You saved a lot of lives. General Hammond's nominated you for the Medal of Honor."

"Cool." He wasn't so out of it that he didn't realize he would never wear the thing in public, but it was the thought that counted.

"Listen, I'm going to go get a doctor. I'll be right back."

Cam watched her slip out the door and once she was gone he did his best to look around the room. He couldn't move his head much but he could get down the essentials. He had a small private room with the usual bland paint, cheap guest furniture, generic painting on the wall, and a TV. He was probably at the Academy Hospital's restricted wing, where the SGC stuck its long-term patients. The blinds were drawn but red light was shining through, and a glance at the clock told him it was late in the afternoon. It was a testament to the drugs he was on that the last thing he noticed was the array of plastic and metal braces around his lower body. They weren't obtrusive and he hadn't spotted them until he lifted his head a little, but that only made their presence more worrying. Even with the drugs he should have felt them, and the fact that he hadn't sent a chill up his spine.

Sam returned a minute later with a woman in a doctor's lab coat.

"Good afternoon, Colonel Mitchell. I'm Doctor Brightman," she said. "I'm your attending physician. It's nice to finally speak with you. I've heard a lot about you."

"All good, I hope."

"Most of it." Doctor Brightman examined some of the monitors and drip bags that Cam was hooked up to. "Are you in any pain?"

Cam jerked his chin back and forth, the closest he could manage to shaking his head. "No, I'm not. In fact, I'd say I'm in suspiciously little pain. How about you give it to me straight, doc?"

Brightman nodded. "I'm afraid that your injuries are fairly serious, and they were aggravated by the amount of time it took to retrieve you from the crash and get you to a proper medical facility."

"We tried to get to you as soon as we could," Sam said apologetically, "but we didn't have the right kind of rescue equipment on hand and there a lot of other casualties."

"Don't worry about it," Cam said tiredly. He didn't care about those problems; you didn't expect easy rescues in the aftermath of an unexpected battle over an icy wasteland and it was too late to bitch about it anyways. He was more concerned about who else had been hurt or killed and whether they were being taken care of.

"You've already undergone two surgeries and several treatments with a healing device," Brightman continued. "We've managed to fix most injuries. However, there was severe damage to your spinal cord which we haven't been able to repair yet."

"Spinal damage," Cam said flatly. "Just how bad is it?"

"It's hard to say. We'll need to discuss possible treatment options. However, there's a very strong chance that you won't walk again."

Cam nodded and closed his eyes. For a few minutes he laid there silently, trying and failing to grasp the news. It was hard to even believe it was happening. Finally he asked, "Has anyone told my parents?"

"Not yet," Sam said.

"Good. That's good." Cam knew that this would devastate them, especially his father. They had never been anything but supportive of his career, but Cam knew his father had always worried that Cam could end up injured like he had. "Listen, if you can, I want you to be the one to tell them. I don't want them hearing about it from a stranger."

"I'll take care of it," Sam said. "I would have already, except there is a way you could be healed."

"How?"

Sam ducked her head and when she looked up again her eyes flashed gold.

"There is a Tok'ra, Sipka of Tabor, who will soon be in need of a new host, and she has expressed interest in blending with one of the Tau'ri," Jolinar said in her distinctive resonant voice. "If you were to become her host, she would be able to heal your spinal injury."

A host. Cam never would have even considered the idea unless she had brought it up first, even if he wasn't a bit less lucid than usual. Oh, he knew that other people in the same kind of situation as him had made that choice; it was hard to ignore the existence of the Tok'ra when your best friend was one. It was just that he had never given a moment's thought that some day he might be the one who had to decide between life-long disability or permanently giving up his privacy and autonomy. There were other issues as well; he had heard Sam and Jolinar bitch often enough to know that the Tau'ri-Tok'ra pairs were caught between two groups that still didn't fully trust or respect each other.

"Do you think we'd get along?" Cam asked after a minute.

Jolinar nodded and said, "Sam and I believe that your personalities would be compatible, yes."

"Then I'll do it."

"Are you certain? There is no need for an immediate decision, and a blending is not something that can be set aside easily."

"I'm certain," Cam said as firmly as he could. "I won't pretend that I'm entirely comfortable with the idea, but I'm not jumping into it just because I'm scared of the alternative."

He was scared, not that he would ever admit it aloud. Whichever choice he made, his life as he knew it would be over. He might as well go with the one that gave him a chance to keep fighting the good fight and make a difference in the world.

After another of those head-ducking motions, Sam spoke again.

"If you're sure, then I'll go ahead and make the arrangements," Sam said. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of days and then you'll be up and about again."

"Sounds like a plan," Cam said. "And Sam? Thanks for being here."

"Don't mention it."

After Sam left, Doctor Brightman said to Cam, "I guess in the meantime we'll do our best to keep you comfortable. If you decide that you want to discuss other alternatives, I'm available at any time."

"Trying to talk me out of it, doc?" Cam asked.

"Not exactly," she said. "I just don't want you to rush into making a decision before you've had time to think about it."

"I'm a pilot. We're all about rush decisions," Cam said with a slight smile.

"All I'm saying is that you only just found out about your injuries and you're drugged to the gills. It's not necessarily the best time to be making major life choices."

"If Sam says this is my best option, then it's what I want to go with," Cam insisted. "I trust her to look out for me. Thanks for the concern, though."

Brightman sighed but let the matter drop. Cam was glad she did; the last thing he needed right then was to be second-guessing himself. He meant what he had said about Sam, and even if he had doubts he could always be sure that in a situation like this she would have his best interests at heart.

He spent most of his time over the next two days asleep, waking up for fifteen minutes here or a half hour there. His attempts to actually do anything in that time were utterly useless; when someone was around they wouldn't tell him anything about the rest of his squadron, and even trying to watch TV generally resulted in him dozing off before he found anything halfway interesting.

Eventually he was transferred to one of the isolation rooms in the SGC's infirmary. He went to sleep to the sound of chirping birds outside his window and woke up surrounded by concrete. In his slightly addled opinion, the place could use a good coat of paint and some more lights. On the positive side, his Gran'ma was laying in the next bed over, which seemed a bit odd.

"I am not your grandmother," said the woman. Cam squinted at her and saw that she was several inches shorter and much skinnier than his grandma had been the last time he saw her. She was also alive.

"Did I say that out loud?" Cam asked with a groan.

"You did."

"Sorry. My brain isn't working as well as it normally does. I'm Cameron Mitchell, by the way."

"My name is Solana. It is pleasant to meet you, Cameron."

"Likewise. Do you mind if I ask why a beautiful young lady like yourself is stuck in here with me?"

Solana laughed heartily for a few moments. "Beautiful, I can agree with. I'm afraid that I have long since left youth behind, however. I'm probably old enough to be one of your ancestral mothers fifteen generations removed."

Cam wasn't so far gone that he couldn't put two and two together. "You're a host. To Sipka, I'm guessing."

"You are correct," she said with a nod. "She's asleep at the moment -- we've both spent more time sleeping than awake these last few months -- but that suits my purposes well enough. I'm glad to have a chance to speak with you alone for a few moments before the others come and the transfer is made."

"We're doing that today?"

"Unless you've changed your mind, yes. The doctors say it would be best for everyone if it was done as soon as possible." Solana sniffed and shook her head slightly. "But then, they would say that. I've never met a physician who couldn't find some reason to claim you're going to die. Sometimes I suspect they're glad I'm finally going to drop dead."

"Ah..." Cam tried to think of a response that didn't end up insulting someone. "I'm sure they mean well."

"Oh, they do, but at my age you're allowed to complain about petty annoyances. Otherwise you'd end up dwelling on all the real injustices and after a very long life that would be entirely too depressing."

Cam grinned. "Don't get me wrong, but that justification sounds depressing in and of itself."

"That's life for you." Solana looked him in the eye. "In all seriousness, Cameron, I wanted to thank you for doing this. Sipka is at times stubborn, arrogant, convinced of her intellectual superiority to all other beings, and in general annoying, but she is also kind and generous and I could not have asked for a better companion these many years. I am glad to know that she will continue on thanks to you, and through her so shall I. In a true blending, something of the host always survives."

Honesty compelled Cam to tell her, "I wasn't really thinking of her when I made my decision."

Solana shrugged. "Neither was I when I chose to be blended, but it still takes courage even if you're acting mostly from self-interest. You can ponder whether or not you deserve thanks all you want, but I believe you do." She looked up at the ceiling. "Now, I think it is time to call the others. I am tired and would like to get this done so I can rest."

She used the bed's call button and soon several others arrived in the room: Sam, Doctor Brightman, and a pair of men in Tok'ra uniforms. In short order they moved Solana's bed so that it was pressed up against Cam's. Since he couldn't move, she had to scoot over and prop herself up to lean over him.

"Goodbye, Cameron," Solana said. She pressed her mouth against Cam's in a strangely chaste open-mouthed kiss. Suddenly, something long and thick slid past his lips and he felt a sharp, intense pain as it pierced the back of his throat. He gagged for a moment, but thankfully it was quickly gone and he managed to keep from retching. Beside him, Solana rolled back onto her bed, closed her eyes, and let out a long sigh. Cam suddenly felt completely exhausted himself and quickly slipped into a deep sleep.

Waking up was starting to become something of a hobby for Cam. This time it was different, though. There was still a level of weariness, but almost all of the bone-deep aches that he had been feeling were gone. So were all the tubes, wires, and braces that had been attached to him for the last few days. He cautiously sat up and felt only a few twinges of pain and had no trouble raising and bending his legs. He was able to carefully sit up and swing his legs off the side of the bed with only a few twinges of pain near the small of his back.

"Huh," he said. "That was fast." Or had it been? He had no idea how long he had been under this time.

_"Just over four days,"_ a voice said. It was vaguely androgynous, sounding almost like a woman but somehow too deep. _"I was awake briefly this morning and spoke with Samantha."_

"Jesus Christ!" Cam practically jumped out of his skin. He started to twist around to see if someone was there, only to stop himself when he realized the voice hadn't come from any direction in particular and put two and two together. "Uh, hi. Are you Sipka?"

_"Indeed I am, Colonel Mitchell. I apologize if I startled you,"_ the voice replied, sounding more amused that apologetic in Cam's opinion.

"You might as well call me by my name, since we're going to be together for a while," Cam told... her? Him? What pronoun even fit a Tok'ra?

_"Strictly speaking, we are all biologically male, although the term does not precisely correspond with the human sex, let alone your gender constructs. We typically take on the preferred gender of the host, although it can take a few days for our self-image to adjust after switching between hosts. And yes, I can 'read' your thoughts, but only at a surface level at this point. As we are blended for longer, there will be greater overlap of thoughts and emotions in both directions."_

"Right. That makes sense, I guess." Cam got off the bed and stretched. Other than those twinges and some itching from several days of beard growth, everything seemed to be in order. Unfortunately there was no mirror in the room, so he couldn't get a good look at himself. "You said it's been four days?"

_"Yes. We were in a healing sleep while your injuries healed. I expect your body will be tired for several days more, given the resources we have spent fixing it, but that should pass soon."_

As soon as Sipka said, 'resources spent', Cam's stomach grumbled as if on cue. He laughed and said, "I don't know about you, but I could use a bite to eat."

_"I agree completely. Hopefully we can get something substantial. Not only do we need the nutrients, but it's been months since I have had something good to eat. I did my best, but Solana's stomach simply wasn't up to anything beyond bland and soft foods."_

"Somehow I don't think we'll be able to sneak out and get a steak," and there Cam's stomach went rumbling again, "but I bet I could convince the doc to let us stop by the mess."

"You do realize that you look like you're talking to yourself, right?" Sam asked from behind him. He turned to see her standing in the now-open doorway. "If you keep that up, people are going to think you're crazy."

Cam crossed his arms. "You've been calling me crazy since the day I met you. And I'm fine, thanks."

Sam walked across the room and hugged him. As they embraced, Cam felt a strange, static-like tingle all across his skin.

_"Jolinar,"_ Sipka said.

"What?" Cam said.

Sam blinked. "Excuse me?"

_"The sensation you just felt was naquadah in your blood reacting to the naquadah in Samantha's body due to Jolinar's presence."_

"Oh. Right, I forgot about that."

"Forgot about what?" Sam asked.

"The entire 'sensing symbiotes' thing."

Sam nodded. "It is a bit distracting, isn't it? You'll get used to it. Just like you'll get used to not speaking out loud."

Cam pursed his lips, half from annoyance and half to prevent himself from smiling. He had to admit, the image of a guy standing there and talking to thin air would be kind of amusing if it was someone else doing it.

_"I think it's amusing. You are free to disagree, of course."_

"Sam," Cam said, rubbing his temple, "did you stick a smart-ass in my head?"

She looked off into the distance and smiled. "Jolinar says that it's a possibility, depending on your definition. To be fair, you agreed to it and we didn't exactly do any sticking. How is Sipka, by the way?"

_"Do you want to field this one?"_ Cam asked.

_"Not particularly, no. Tell her than I am fine and that I thank her for her concern."_

"She says thanks, but she's fine. He's fine. Did it take long for Jolinar to stop sounding like a guy in your head?"

Sam blinked. "She's always sounded like a woman. It's not surprising. In between me and Rosha, she was only in a male host for a few weeks, and it wasn't really a true blending in that case." Her expression grew tight for a moment and she shifted from foot to foot. "Are you sure she's okay?"

Sipka sighed mentally and said, _"May I?"_

_"Uh, sure."_

Suddenly Cam lost control over his body. He could feel his head nod, but it was almost like he was anesthetized again, aware and yet completely unable to take any action. Panic flared up for a moment before he forced it down again.

"I am perfectly fine," Cam heard his own voice say with a strange, almost electric burr. "I knew Solana's time was coming for months, and I have had several days to adjust. I have mourned and moved on, just as I always have before. Now, Cameron and I are starving and would appreciate a meal."

Sam looked at him skeptically for a few seconds, then said, "Come on, the mess should be serving lunch by now."

Sipka released control back to Cam. He was momentarily disoriented but he quickly regained his bearings and followed Sam as she led him out of the room. It was sort of like handing off control to a co-pilot, he supposed, and it helped to think of it that way. Well, it did a little -- he flew fighters, not big, lumbering bombers or transports where you needed a co-pilot and engineer, and he had always hated flying when someone else was at the stick. He'd get used to it, though.

_"You may remain in control if it makes you comfortable,"_ Sipka said. _"I know it takes many hosts time to become used to the experience. Many Tok'ra find that it is simpler and more comfortable to divide up when each host or symbiote is in control, especially when interacting with others."_

_"So, what, I get the body Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, you get it on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, and we split the Sundays?"_

Sipka laughed. _"Nothing so rigid. We will find a natural equilibrium soon enough. In truth, I prefer to my hosts do the talking. It allows me more time to think. I believe that might suit us well enough."_

_"Closer to pilot and navigator, then? I can work with that."_ Cam frowned as a thought hit him. He really didn't know anything about his new symbiote, even basic information like what sort of job or specialty she had and how that would mesh with his own career. _"So what do you do for a living?"_

_"I'm a technical specialist. In recent years I've mostly been analyzing alien technology in the hopes of adapting it for our own use. Of course, in the past 'technical specialist' had a distressing tendency to sound like 'good saboteur' to the high council, and I imagine now that I have a young host again they'll want me to play that role again."_ Sipka paused and Cam could almost hear her thinking to herself. _"Although perhaps your own superiors will have other ideas of how we can be best put to use."_ She sounded amused at the idea.

_"I'm sure they will. I guess we'll see how closely the two line up, and if we're lucky we'll get some say in the matter."_ Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. Even with a snake in his head Cam's life was a matter of following and giving orders.

Their conversation was cut short when he and Sam arrived at the commissary. There was the usual mish-mash of food that you could find in any Air Force base, at least stateside. Cam loaded his tray up with a grilled chicken sandwich, fries, and a salad, before deciding that he actually wanted two sandwiches, green beans, and some cream pie as well.

"Sure you don't want three sandwiches? Maybe some meatloaf, too?" Sam asked with a smile.

"Shut up, I'm hungry. And that? That is not meatloaf."

_"What is it, then?"_

"I have no idea what it is, but it isn't meatloaf. I'm not sure it even has any real meat in it. It's probably made from ground meat byproducts."

"If you keep complaining, you're going to upset the cooks," Sam said as they sat down at a table.

"I bet they would agree with me. They probably don't like working with sub-standard materials any more than I like eating it."

Sam pointed her fork at him. "You should be glad the food is as good as it is. Things could be a lot worse."

"I don't know. I've seen MREs more palatable-looking that that stuff."

"Believe me, MREs are a luxury compared to some stuff they eat on the other side of the gate. Let's just say that there's more than one reason that most Tok'ra-Tau'ri pairs prefer to live on Earth or at the Alpha Site instead of a regular Tok'ra base."

_"Any truth to that?"_ Cam asked Sipka even as he wolfed down his salad. Talking with his mouth open was not an issue when he was talking in his head.

_"Our race is not known for its culinary arts,"_ Sipka admitted. _"Because our bases must remain undetected and are often located on uninhabited planets, we do not have room for extensive agriculture, let alone food animals. We use a waste recycling system that produces several types of simple but palatable foodstuffs with a reasonable range of tastes and textures."_

_"I'm pretty sure that's code for 'bland and boring old-people-food' made from crap."_

_"That would seem accurate, yes. We do supplement it with what food we can raise hydroponically or gather from other sources, particularly spices and sauces. Also, in our defense we live in tunnels and must relocate frequently."_

_"Have you tried deep frying your simple, palatable foodstuffs? Frying makes everything better."_

_"I'm not sure what you mean, but it does not sound healthy."_

_"Oh, it's not, but that's beside the point. It's delicious."_ Cam popped a fry into his mouth.

_"I... see. Perhaps we can sample some of your 'deep fried' foods so I can experience them first-hand while we are still on Earth."_

_"That can be arranged."_ Cam speared some green beans and popped them in his mouth, only to spew them out almost instantly. One landed on Sam; she picked it off her uniform with two fingers while staring at Cam with a piercing expression that suggested he quickly explain himself.

"Sorry," he said aloud, "but those are absolutely disgusting."

Sam reached across the table with her fork to snag a few beans, then carefully put them in her mouth. She shook her head. "They're a bit bland, but not bad."

Cam eyed the green beans skeptically, then nibbled on another. He quickly spat it out, this time on his tray. "No, that's awful."

_"Vile,"_ Sipka agreed. _"It reminds me of..."_ Her voice trailed off, but Cam felt a sudden surge of emotions: fear, sorrow, a hint of rage. They went away almost as quickly as they had appeared. _"I apologize. I fear this is my fault. They say that smell and taste are the senses most deeply tied to memory, and we Tok'ra have exceptional memories."_

_"What, did you get attacked by mutant vegetables at some point?"_ Cam asked.

_"No,"_ Sipka replied sharply. _"I would prefer not to speak of it. It was not a pleasant experience."_

Cam winced, realizing that anything that produced such as instinctive and visceral reaction wasn't something he should be poking fun at. _"I'm sorry."_

_"Do not be. This is a strange time for you, and we must both adjust our boundaries. It will take time."_

"Apparently Sipka doesn't like green beans," Cam eventually told Sam.

"Blue jello," Sam said with a nod.

"Excuse me?"

"Jolinar despises blue jello, so I don't eat it any more," she explained. Then Jolinar took over for just long enough to add, "It's unnatural."

"I think that's the point," Cam said.

"Try telling her that," Sam said with a roll of her eyes. "I hope you didn't like coffee for its own sake, either. None of them enjoy it, and caffeine doesn't even do anything for us. The same goes for tobacco and nicotine."

"What about chocolate?" Cam asked with a sinking feeling. He wondered what else he might be missing out on now. He didn't even know how he was going to get around in the morning without coffee.

Sam smiled. "Chocolate's great."

_"Chocolate is divine,"_ Sipka declared. _"It says so right in the name - theobromine, 'food of the gods'. The system lords restrict its consumption to themselves and their chosen followers. Your 'Hershey' company alone is such an affront that it would warrant planetary extermination. I don't suppose you have any around, would you?"_

_"I've been unconscious the last few days, I haven't had a lot of time to buy snacks or get any groceries."_ In fact, any food he did have back in his apartment in Nevada was probably well on the way to evolving legs and escaping. He'd have to call someone to clean out the fridge.

That thought brought up the unpleasant question of who would even be there to answer his call. Casually, Cam said, "So I take it we won?"

"We did," Sam said. "We found the Ancient weapon under Antarctica, and used it to destroy the entire fleet Anubis brought."

"How many people did I lose?"

"I think General Hammond was planning to –"

"Sam," Cam said flatly.

"Five dead," she said with a sigh. "Ten more injured, but none as badly as you and most of them should fully recover with enough healing device treatments. There were three more injuries on the _Prometheus_."

"Five," Cam said, mouth dry.

"It could have been a lot worse, Cam. The NARCISSUS team has been trawling through the mirror network. Some of them lost the entire squadron, and a few have gone dark. One universe had to go public; they lost an entire carrier battle group and there's no way to cover up something that huge."

NARCISSUS was the SGC's special intelligence program, devised after the discovery of the quantum mirror. Cam only knew the sparsest details -- the entire project was classified, and Cam only knew because he had been commanding the Skinners -- but he did know that it involved communication with other universes through the mirror. It was less useful than you might hope, since tiny decisions could result in major changes, but it occasionally produced useful information and statistical projections. Antarctica hadn't been one of those occasions; they'd only started to receive a flood of warnings about Anubis just before his fleet entered orbit.

"That's not real comforting," Cam said. "What happened somewhere else doesn't change that five of my boys are dead."

"I know, and I don't mean to belittle that. I just don't want you being hard on yourself when your leadership is one of the reasons that most of them got out alive."

Cam knew that, realistically, five men was nothing considering the odds they had gone up against, and he didn't think Sam would say that just to lift his spirits, so she honestly believed it and could probably whip up some kind of spreadsheet to prove it. Knowing that only helped ease the aches that had nothing to do with his injuries a little bit.

"I'll want to see the after-action reports," Cam said. "I should write up my own, for that matter. Did Major Hogan survive?"

"She did."

"Good. I can't think of anyone better to take my place while I'm down. Has anyone notified the families?"

"General Hammond's taken care of all of that." Sam leaned forward. "Cam, you've been drugged or unconscious for over a week. You don't need to worry about anything except yourself right now. We've got everything covered."

"I feel fine. I'd feel even better if I had something useful to do."

"You feel fine right now. Trust me, you'll be tired again before too long. Symbiotes aren't magic; healing takes a lot out of you. Why don't you wait and see how you feel after you've had a shower and the doctors have examined you?"

"All right," Cam said. He figured that if he had slept until lunch already, he'd be up well into the evening whatever she claimed.

He was wrong. While he felt more refreshed after a shower and a shave, by the time the doctors -- Brightman and a Tok'ra name Anek -- had run him through an exhausting exam and pronounced him more or less fit he barely felt up to doing more than flopping back into his bed. He fell asleep while reading SG-1's mission report. Cam was up for an entire two hours the next day, which was long enough to scarf down an entire pizza along with a sample of just about everything else the mess served, much to the bemusement of the staff. This time nothing gave him any problems, although given how generic it all was there was no way to be sure that most institutional food just didn't have enough flavor to trigger a reaction. He'd have to experiment to see what did and did not work for him – them – these days.

Slowly but surely he started to build up more strength and spent more and more time awake, until finally the doctors admitted that he seemed to be fully recovered and was ready to return to duty. Sam, who had briefly disappeared off to Asgard land for a few days, offered up her spare room so that he wouldn't have to stay on base until he could return home to Nellis.

The day that Cam was officially scheduled to report back for duty got off to an odd start. For the first time since the crash, he felt completely rested and there wasn't even a hint of paint anywhere in his body. He was still half-asleep even as he stepped into the shower, of course, but that had less to do with the entire smashed-into-a-glacier thing and more to do with the fact that it was morning. His body seemed to agree that he was recovering well, because as he soaped himself up certain parts that he'd been too exhausted to pay much attention to began to perk up. Cam grinned to himself and started to idly play with his dick, until suddenly he woke up enough to remember a rather important fact.

_"Don't mind me,"_ Sipka said, sounding entirely too amused for Cam's taste.

Cam stopped what he was doing.

"Um," he said.

_"Is this awkward?"_ Sipka asked. _"I do hope you're not embarrassed."_

"Oh, I'm embarrassed all right." He couldn't believe he'd been blindsided with this particular topic. It was so obvious, and yet somehow it had never really come up on the occasions he'd talked with Sam about what being blended meant for her. Suddenly he wondered if perhaps he had been too polite for his own good.

_"I don't see why. Masturbation is completely natural. Believe me, everyone does it."_

"I am not having this conversation," Cam said, his face burning.

_"We're going to have to discuss it sooner or later, among other things. I do hope that a healthy young man like yourself knows about the various possibilities offered by that part of human anatomy."_

"I can't hear you."

_"You don't? Well, when two people love each other very much -- or more than two people, but we'll start with the basics -- they frequently will copulate. In fact, humans tend to do so even when they're not in love, and frankly I can't blame them."_

"Sam!" Cam hollered. "I'm being sexually harassed by my symbiote!"

_"In all seriousness, Cameron, we will need to talk,"_ Sipka said. _"I'm aware that it can take time to grow used to this level of intimacy, and I promise to help in any way I can. Are you currently involved with anyone?"_

"I... no, not really," Cam said. "Not at the moment, anyways. There was someone, but the war kind of put everything on hold."

_"Wars do that at times. It's probably for the best; you'll have more time to adjust without having to deal with another person at the same time."_

"Yeah, I guess so." That would be the first time Cam thought he was lucky to be single. He finished his shower as quickly as he could, without any further excitement downstairs. Over breakfast he couldn't quite look Sam in the eye; thankfully she didn't ask why.

His first stop was the office of the SGC's new leader, Doctor Elizabeth Weir. She had only replaced General Hammond immediately prior to Anubis' attack but had hit the ground running and already proven herself during the crisis. Cam had only met her briefly but he'd come away with an impression that she was an intelligent and exceptionally canny woman.

"Good morning, Colonel Mitchell," Weir said, standing up and shaking his hand. She waved for him to sit. "I hope you're feeling well. There's no need to rush back to active duty."

"I'm fine, ma'am," Cam replied. "I'd rather be working than sitting around and twiddling my thumbs."

"I understand. I usually feel that way myself. I actually asked you here to discuss your career. The paperwork for your transfer from 42nd Test Wing to Stargate Command is already going through the system, but there are a number of options regarding exactly what you'll be doing here."

"Transfer, ma'am?" It was a word Cam had been dreading for a while now. "I realize that all of the other officer and men who've are blended are assigned to the SGC, but they were here already. I was hoping that it would be possible to remain with my squadron. I'm a pilot, not a special operator."

Weir nodded. "I know that's the case, but the Pentagon would rather have all of the Tok'ra attached to this facility. It simplifies joint assignments with the Tok'ra High Council, and we can make better use of your special talents and knowledge here. I understand that your symbiote, Sipka, is an engineer or technician of some kind?"

"That's correct ma'am. To me, that seems like it would make us even more valuable for the 302 program, since Sipka has intimate knowledge of Goa'uld spacecraft."

"I'm sure that's true, but this order comes from way over my head." Weir looked like she had bitten into something sour, and after a few moments she added, "To be frank, it seems like there are a number of people at the DOD, particularly from the new administration, who aren't entirely comfortable with the idea of a foreign national being in command of one of our key space defense units."

"I'm not a foreign national, ma'am," Cam protested. "My loyalties haven't changed just because of my symbiote."

"I know that, and I've made it clear that I disagree with this decision, as have General Hammond and General O'Neill. However, you have to remember that many of the people in charge only just became aware that aliens even exist. Give them some time to adjust and maybe we can revisit the issue later."

Cam wasn't happy with that answer, even if he had to admit that seen from the outside and only on paper the Tok'ra might seem a bit creepy. There wasn't much he could say but "I understand, ma'am."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry, and I thank you for being patient." Weir reached for a folder on her desk and opened it up. "As for your new assignment, there's always space in the new technology analysis division, but somehow I didn't think working in a lab examining recently discovered alien artifact would appeal to you."

Cam opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. _"What do you think?"_ he asked silently.

_"While it's certainly an interesting idea, especially given how much your people interact with Asgard and Ancient technology, I wouldn't want you to get bored,"_ Sipka replied. _"As I said before, I'm not inexperienced with more active field work."_

"That does sound nice, ma'am," Cam said to Weir, "but not as a full-time job."

"Of course. In terms of field work, the next option would be detached duty with the Tok'ra, operating as an agent answering to the High Council. You could also choose to be assigned to one of our long-term bases in either a support or possibly a command position. Finally, I have no doubt that you would make an excellent SG team member, or even a leader. Do you have any preference?"

That Cam could answer without hesitation. "If I have to be on the ground, I wouldn't mind an SG team, even if it's one that digs up rocks."

Weir nodded and made a few notes. "I'm sure that we can find a first-contact team for you. You should ask General O'Neill if he has any recommendations as to whether to form a team or join an existing one. He'll be your immediate superior, as he's the senior officer on base and my second in command." She smiled wryly at him. "Although the difference between that and being in charge is a bit non-existent at the moment, seeing as how I seem to spend all my time dealing with international and interstellar diplomacy."

"You have my sincere sympathies, ma'am," Cam said with a smile of his own.

"On a similar note, since you don't plan to resign your commission, you'll be the senior-most blended officer who's still on active duty. General Carter resigned shortly after blending with Selmak and they spend most of their time off-world in any case. I'd like you to take charge of an ad hoc unit of all the Tok'ra-Tau'ri pairs stationed with us, in order to make sure any special concerns you all may have are addressed, particularly when it comes to professional development of the younger officers. I think it's been overlooked, but your numbers are starting to grow large enough that it needs to be addressed."

"That would be in addition to the SG team, right?" Cam asked cautiously.

"Of course. You'd all retain your current assignments. I just think it's important that we have some structure to make sure your needs are being met. You'd simply be acting as a sort of liaison and advocate, similar to how some joint-forces units are set up."

"In that case, ma'am, I'd be happy to do so."

"Excellent." Weir made a few more notes, then set the file down. "You've already had most of the essential orientation and training for exploration missions as part of your training as a 302 pilot, so it shouldn't take long for you to get qualified for a team position. I'll have Sergeant Harriman and General O'Neill figure out exactly what you might be missing. I think that Major Carter also plans to get you up to speed with regards to the Tok'ra. Is there anything else you need to discuss with me?"

Cam shook his head. "Not at the moment, no, ma'am."

"In that case, you can be on your way. I look forward to working with you, Colonel."

"Likewise, ma'am."

Cam exited her office through the briefing room. He stopped halfway through to look down at the gate. It wasn't a 302, but he supposed it was the next best thing. There had been times when he'd wished that he had gotten tapped for a gate team instead of the 302 program, attracted to the idea of exploring strange new worlds, though he had never been anything but thrilled to be flying the fighters regardless. It looked like he was going to find out whether it was worth the trade-off.

He got directions from a passing airman and made his way to Sam's lab. She was sitting on a stool with her back to the door and was bent over some kind of device on the workbench. He carefully sneaked up behind her and peered over her shoulder. Neither he nor Sipka recognized what she was working on, so he asked, "What's that?"

"Gah!" Sam exclaimed, jerking up and nearly smacking her head against Cam's chin. She did elbow him sharply in the side while turning around. She crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Sorry if I startled you," Cam said innocently. "I was just curious. I've never seen anything like it. "

"Uh huh. Don't think you can fool me, I know you did that on purpose."

"Maybe, maybe not."

"I can't believe anyone falls for that act." Sam shook her head, then turned halfway back so she could pick up the device. It was a strange little machine, roughly a yard long and sporting a shield-like smooth, curved plate at one end. "It's an anti-replicator weapon. The Asgard pulled the design out of General O'Neill's head when we went to Orilla so they could heal him. We had some useful mirror intelligence for once and we think we managed to destroy all the replicators, but just in case I'm trying to figure out how we can build some more of these using our own resources. You're welcome to help if you want."

"Maybe," he said, taking the weapon from her so he could examine it more closely. He couldn't make heads or tails of what the parts were, but he could feel that Sipka had at least some idea of what made it tick. He wondered if she could teach him more about alien technology, or if that was something that would just come naturally.

"How'd it go with Weir?" Sam asked when he put it down on the bench.

Cam shrugged. "She's going to assign me to a gate team. It's not perfect, but I think it'll work out."

"You'll love it, trust me. Did she say which one?"

"No. I'm supposed to talk to O'Neill about figuring out where I'd fit in."

"You're welcome to join SG-1. We're down a man with the general being promoted."

"Really?" Cam said. "Are you sure about that? I would have thought that you'd be taking command of the team."

"I don't care about that," Sam said, shaking her head. "I'd rather have someone I trust than spend time trying to find a different fourth person. For that matter, I wouldn't be surprised if the Russians try to get someone on the team again, and while I don't have anything against them I don't think we'd get a choice about who they'd pick. It'd be better to have someone else as soon as possible."

"Well, if you're positive..." he said.

"I am. Between you and me, I'm not sure I'd want to be responsible for managing Daniel and Teal'c. They can be a bit... difficult at time." Sam grinned at him. "My ego can take being your subordinate; I'm not sure my sanity can take being their superior."

Cam looked at her skeptically. "That's really not very encouraging, you know. I guess I'll give it a shot and see what they think."

"Good." Sam hopped off her stool. "Now come on, there's some people you need to meet."

Sam led him up several levels and through several corridors to one of the more outlying corners of the base, insofar as any part of the SGC could be outlying. There were a number of offices and small labs back in that area.

"This is more or less the de facto Tok'ra quarter," Sam explained. "Some of us have other labs or work to do around the base, but for the most part we're all located in one place for convenience's sake. There's also some living quarters, although most of us live off-base. We have a little break and meeting room through here."

The room was a fairly typical group office set-up and had a long table in the center, with a few smaller tables around the end along with cabinets, a mini-fridge, and a microwave. There were a dozen people sitting around the room, idly chatting with each other, reading reports, or typing at laptop or alien computers. They all stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to Cam and Sam when they came in.

"Good morning, everyone," Sam said. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Sipka's new host. Cam, going around the room," she started pointing people out, "we have Aldwin and Lieutenant Kevin Elliot. Technical Sergeant Maria Vasquez and Salves. Doctor Stefan Kovachs and Andren." She kept going, sometimes introducing the host first and sometimes the symbiote. Cam guessed, and Sipka confirmed, that this was according to which partner tended to be the face man. Nine of them were servicemembers, which made sense; in general, they were more likely to end up in a situation where they'd need a symbiote or be in a position to volunteer to take one in an emergency.

"And finally, we have Martouf and Lantash, who aren't technically SGC personnel but tend to hang around here anyway," Sam finished. Cam recognized that name, at least, although until now he had never had a face to put with Sam's boyfriend. "There's fifteen more of us, but I guess most of them are working or off-world, unlike these guys."

"We are working," Aldwin said. "We're going over pre-mission reports, post-mission reports, contact reports, after-action reports, and all the other myriad reports your Pentangular overlords are so fond of."

"The High Council is no less fond of documentation," Martouf said.

"At least they don't insist on literal paperwork."

"You know, you're not going to make a very good first impression if you keep whining," Sam said.

"Nonsense," Aldwin said. "I'm sure Colonel Mitchell completely understands where I'm coming from."

"You're not getting any sympathy out of me," Cam said. "Nothing could be worse than managing an entire squadron of experimental aircraft. We spent as much time writing reports as we did testing the planes."

Aldwin's demeanor suddenly shifted. His expression went from good-natured annoyance to almost puppy-like eagerness; his posture from stiff and proper to something more relaxed. "That's right, you were flying 302s, weren't you?" Elliot said. "That must have been amazing. I wanted to be a pilot, but my eyesight wasn't good enough. I'm glad I ended up here, but still, I'd have like to give it a shot. Aldwin's been teaching me to fly cargo ships, but I don't think it's the same."

"Your eyesight's probably better now, right?" Cam asked. "I bet we could swing you some simulator time, if nothing else. Call it cross-training or something."

"Really? I wouldn't want to be any trouble."

"The way I hear it, there's a lot of people who owe me favors these days. It shouldn't be too hard."

"I appreciate it, sir." A tilt of his head signaled Aldwin's return. "On that subject, Colonel, I think I speak for all of us when I say I'd be very interested in hearing your perspective on the recent battle. Even given the Ancient weapon's role in securing victory, it's a fascinating event. It's rare to have an example of direct combat against a Goa'uld fleet of that size and I think we could learn a great deal from it."

Cam reluctantly nodded, knowing that there wasn't any point in trying to stave off the inevitable. He'd have to talk about it sooner or later. "You might be better off talking with General Hammond, since he had a better overall view of things, but I'd be happy discuss it."

"Excellent. Just let us know when would be a good time for you. I'm sure some of those who aren't here at the moment would be like to hear as well, and I imagine you'd rather not repeat yourself six times."

"Speaking of good times," Sam said, "we're having a barbeque at General O'Neill's house Saturday night. It's sort of a custom to have a welcoming party for newly blended pairs, and he thought we needed a general 'we survived again' get-together anyways."

"Sounds good. I've never met a barbeque I didn't like," Cam said. "Should I bring something?"

"Well, you're the hero of the hour, so you don't _have_ to," Sam replied.

He laughed. "I'll stop by the grocery on my way home and commandeer your oven tonight."

"If you insist," Sam said, a glint of victory in her eyes. Just then, her name was called over the intercom, asking her to report to one of the labs. "I better go see what that is. Cam, you should touch base with Master Sergeant Harriman at some point today. He'll get you sorted out with an office and all that."

"Don't worry, I know how it works. Secret project or no secret project, every base is the same."

As soon as the door closed behind her, Martouf waved for Cam to sit down in the chair next to him. He leaned forward and stared intently at Cam. "Cameron, I understand that you're a good friend of Samantha's. Is that true?"

"Yeah, it is," Cam said.

"Good. I need your help. General O'Neill has informed me that she will be promoted soon, before the normal schedule would allow, and that he intends to surprise her with this information at the party since her father will be present."

"Really?" Cam said. "That's great. She deserves."

"She does. My problem is that I wish to give her some sort of gift to commemorate the occasion. However, I'm not sure what would be appropriate." Martouf shook his head. "Your culture is very strange."

"You only think that because you watch too much weird TV," Vasquez said. She looked at Cam. "He had a bad habit of sitting around with Jonas Quinn watching late-night TV, soap operas, and Japanese game shows. It's messed with his head."

"Be that as it may," Martouf said with a long-suffering sigh, "I would appreciate your assistance. I doubt this is an event for which flowers and dinner is correct."

"Yeah, that probably wouldn't send quite the right message." Cam scratched his head. Aldwin's request was something he had more or less expected to happen at the SGC eventually; giving advice to an alien on the finer points of giving his girlfriend gifts came out of left field. "It's a bit short notice, but we can work something out. You have time this evening?"

"I do. Thank you, Colonel. Last year I ordered something from the Home Shopping Channel for her birthday, and while the results were amusing, that was not the effect I had hoped for."

Cam glanced at Vasquez, who shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Don't mention it."

Before too long, someone from the personnel department hunted Cam down for his in-processing. Never mind that he had been in the base infirmary for roughly forever; he hadn't officially been there and so there was, as Aldwin pointed out, a truly absurd amount of paperwork to do to make the Air Force realize that he was no longer at Area 51. There was even a mandatory medical exam, a fact that did not amuse Cam in the least.

The rest of his week was spent attending briefing sessions meant to prep him for a spot on a gate team. Fortunately for him he was excused from the vast majority of what most newcomers were subjected to, both because of Sipka's long experience with gate travel and knowledge of the galaxy and because of his former piloting position. The _Prometheus_ had made first contact with one planet already, and so the SGC had wanted to make sure anyone who might be stationed aboard would be prepared for similar situations. That included all the pilots, and as their CO Cam had gotten an especially thorough course on interstellar diplomacy and similar topics. No one had anything to say about how to help an alien look for a gift, but Cam had that covered; by Thursday Martouf was in possession of a Leatherman specialized multi-tool meant for demolition techs, monogrammed with Sam's initials using a Tok'ra laser gizmo.

Saturday rolled around and with it the party. Most of the SGC's Tok'ra were there, along with a number of other people from the base. It was an opportunity for Cam to get to know the others a little better. Many of them were blended because of injuries, like Cam had been; for example, Sergeant Vasquez had been mauled by a tiger while exploring a planet. Elliot and Aldwin had barely survived an attack on the Tok'ra base on Ravana, as the same collapsing ceiling that had taken the life of Aldwin's previous host had injured Elliot. A few like Doctor Kovachs had been blended under more fortunate circumstances, though, as he had volunteered to take any Tok'ra in need of a host.

There was one Tok'ra who Cam knew a little better than the rest.

_"Trouble at two o'clock,"_ Cam told Sipka, watching the Tok'ra in question round the buffet and head his way.

_"Trouble?"_ she said. _"How so? Selmak is one of the wisest, oldest, and most respected among us. He is also one of the ones most supportive of our alliance."_

_"It's not Selmak that's trouble."_ It was too late to evade without being horribly obvious about it, so all Cam could do was nod and say, "Evening, General Carter."

"Colonel Mitchell. How are you?"

"I'm doing well, sir. Yourself?"

"I'm fine. And Sipka?"

"He's good, too."

"I'm glad to here it." Jacob seemed to size Cam up for a moment. "I'm sorry to hear that you had to transfer to the SGC. I'm not so old that I can't remember being a pilot; I know how that has to hurt. If there's anything I can do to help you get back in the cockpit, let me know."

That "back in the cockpit" also meant "several hundred miles from my daughter" went unsaid but understood.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Cam said with a smile. "General O'Neill has assured me that I'll be able to keep up my flight time, and to be honest I'm looking forward to going through the gate."

Jacob's expression tightened. "Sam told me that you're joining SG-1, although I imagine that's off now that she's being promoted. It'd be a bit awkward if there were two light birds on the same team."

Just a few minutes before, O'Neill had stood up on a table and made that particular announcement. There had been much cheering and many congratulations, followed by deployment of the good booze. Cam figured he would need some of that pretty soon.

"It won't be a problem," Cam assured Jacob. "We get along pretty well, I'm sure we can work out some kind of informal arrangement where I pretend I'm in charge and she does her science stuff."

"I see," Jacob said flatly. "Well, good luck. On that team, you'll need it." He turned and walked away.

_"What was that about?"_ Sipka asked.

_"General Carter and I have a slightly... rocky history,"_ Cam said. _"Sam and I met when we were about sixteen. Our dads were stationed at the same base. We were both a bit awkward and geeky, so we became friends and even dated for a while."_

_"Oh ho."_ For a moment Cam lost control over his own eyes and his gaze turned toward Sam.

_"Yeah. I mean, okay, we fooled around a couple times, but we worked better as friends. Jacob, of course, thought I was somehow corrupting his innocent daughter."_

_"But of course."_

_"Then the next time we met, Sam and I were graduating from the Academy. The week before the commandant's corvette had just ended up on top of a building somehow. No one could prove who did it, and it was her idea anyways, but good luck convincing Jacob that I wasn't dragging her into a life of crime."_

_"I see."_

_"Also, I broke her fiancé's nose because he was psycho, and while I think Jacob was glad to see the last of him, it really didn't help his impression of me as a perfect officer and gentleman."_

Sipka laughed. _"You poor thing. I'm sure that you're entirely innocent in the entire affair."_

_"I may have called him a jackass to his face once,"_ Cam admitted. _"Fortunately, I've had better luck with hostile fathers since then."_ Mostly on account of never having met any of said fathers, but that was beside the point. He was pretty sure that he was a lot better at making friends and charming people than he had been at sixteen.

_"Mmm. You know, I don't believe that would be a problem with Doctor Jackson."_ Sipka craned their neck to get a better view of the archaeologist, who was wearing a polo shirt and jeans with an exceptionally nice fit.

_"Stop that,"_ Cam said, turning so that no one would notice if he started to blush.

_"Why? You have to admit, he's an exceptional example of the male human form."_

_"He's out of bounds. For one thing, he's a guy. There's rules about that."_

She made a sort of mental snort. _"As if a man like you would ever let rules do more than slow you down. Besides, what are they going to do, fire you?"_

Cam had to admit that she was right on both points. _"Second, he's going to be a teammate. Getting involved is a good way to screw things up."_

_"Ah, well. How about Master Teal'c?"_

"Sorry, I prefer guys who can't break me in half. Also, on my team."

"Doctor Brightman?"

"I suppose she's pretty attractive."

"Major Lorne?"

"Don't even get me started on Lorne. I'd have to make a chart to explain him completely."

"O'Neill?"

"Surprisingly fit for a man his age. Are you seriously going to list every person at this party?"

"Do I have to?"

"You know, I'm going to go get some cake and find someone who isn't a horny snake to talk to." Genderless species, Cam's ass. He was going to end up with some kind of disorder if this kept up.

By Wednesday he was officially qualified to be a member of a gate team, and Thursday SG-1 was assigned its first mission with Cam in charge. "In charge" was perhaps a slight exaggeration; while on paper he was now listed as the team CO, he was starting to get the feeling that Teal'c, Jackson, and to an extent even Sam were humoring him a bit. That seemed fair enough to him and he had every confidence that he would soon prove worthy to lead them, or at least follow them around while they saved the world. At that point Teal'c and Jackson were still cyphers to him; he had read all of the mission reports that Sam had marked 'important' and was now chugging his way through the program's fourth year, but text could only convey so much, and Cam had only spent a few hours with them, most of that either at the welcoming-slash-promotion-slash-not-dead-yet part or in the gym. Thus far he had learned that Jackson was brilliant, sharp-tongued, and possibly insane; Teal'c was stoic, silent, and appeared to believe Cam was the human equivalent of a stress-release squeeze ball.

"Why are you smiling so much?" Jackson asked as they made their way to the gate room.

Cam did have a grin stretched from ear to ear and a bounce in his step. He turned around and started walking backwards. "Why shouldn't I be smiling? I'm about to travel to another world for the first time."

"Didn't all 302 pilots have to undergo training at the Alpha Site?" Sam asked.

"The Alpha Site doesn't count," Cam said, shaking his head. "It was practically just another military base by the time I got there. There wasn't any exploration to do, no danger or excitement, just a stranger, less traumatic version of SERE."

"No danger?" Jackson said. "Anubis turned that Alpha Site into a smoking crater. That sounds pretty dangerous to me."

"He could have turned Nellis or Peterson into a smoking crater, too, so that's really not any more dangerous than normal. Besides, it's not the danger that's important, it's the exploration, the adventure! We are about to step foot on a planet that no one has gone to before."

"Except for the people who are already there."

"Okay, a planet where no," Cam made air quotes, "'Earth humans' have gone before."

"Unless the MALP readings were right, and there's absolutely nothing at all around the gate," Jackson said. "In which case we might really be the first people there since the Ancients put a gate down or the Goa'uld abandoned the planet as too boring to be worthwhile. In that case, we'll spend a day roaming the woods and hoping that nothing eats us, with nothing to show for it."

"Wall," Sam said.

Cam turned around just in time to correct his course and dodge said wall. "If you're so negative about the mission, why are you even coming with, Jackson?"

"Because we're going through the gate and exploring a planet," Jackson said slowly, giving Cam a look that said that was the stupidest thing he had heard since the last time someone used Budge in a translation.

They entered the gate room, taking up positions at the foot of the ramp. Cam waved to the control room techs and turned around to wait for the gate to dial. And waited. And he waited some more, until he said, "Shouldn't it be spinning?"

"It should," Sam agreed.

The team turned around and Cam shouted, "Is there a problem?"

Doctor Weir had arrived in the control room and leaned over the microphone. "We're going to have to delay your departure, Colonel. One of the Russian exchange officers was found unconscious in an office on level 19 a few minutes ago."

"Do you know what's wrong?"

Weir shook her head. "All we know is that he has some strange skin lesions. He's being examined in the infirmary as we speak. Until they have some answers, I'm afraid we're under medical quarantine."

All of them groaned, except Teal'c. So much for Cam's first trip off-world.

"The Russians only got here this morning," Jackson said. "There's no way he could have brought something from off-world, or caught it from someone here."

"That's true, but we can't have you spreading strange diseases through the galaxy. With any luck the doctors will quickly identify what's wrong and you'll be on your way."

"Come on, Elizabeth," Jackson said, practically whining. "None of us have had contact with them, there's no way we could have caught something. Let us out of here before we end up wasting the day and throw the entire week's schedule off."

Something seemed off about that statement to Cam, but Teal'c figured it out first. "Did you not intend to meet with Colonel Vaselov this morning to schedule lessons in Goa'uld?"

Jackson blinked and said, "Shit."

The next few seconds were a blur of action. Jackson yanked out his sidearm and tried throw his free arm around Sam's neck, but she dodged out of the way too quickly. Teal'c knocked the pistol out of Jackson's hand with a sweep of his staff; simultaneously, Sipka drew the zat they were carrying and shot Jackson before Cam had even started to react. They all looked down at Jackson's prone form and after a moment a dense black cloud erupted from his body and vanished through the ceiling.

"Well, that was unusual," Sipka commented.

"Indeed," Teal'c said.

It didn't take too long for Jackson to wake up; apparently if you got shot with a zat enough times, you started to build up a tolerance to it. He was tied down to an infirmary bed just in case he was still affected by whatever the cloud was, or possibly in case he was pissed off.

"Owww," he said, blinking groggily and lifting his head from his pillow. "Did someone shoot me?"

"Yep," O'Neill said. He, along with Weir and the team, were all standing near his bed.

"Was it you?"

"Nope."

"It wasn't me, either," Cam said, completely truthfully.

"Do you remember what happened?" Weir asked.

Jackson groaned and let his head fall back down. "I do, and we have a problem. Apparently Anubis isn't as dead as we thought."

"Didn't I blow him up?" O'Neill griped.

"Apparently not well enough."

"He must have gotten into Vaselov somehow, and then from Vaselov into you," Sam said, biting at her lower lip. "He clearly doesn't require a host, though, except maybe as a way to interact with physical objects. "

"We'll have to put the base into lockdown," Weir said. "He obviously wanted through the gate, and if there's even a possibility that he could regain control over his fleets and armies we can't allow that. I also want it made impossible for a single person to dial the gate, preferably in a way that requires authorization from two physically separated spaces."

"We can do that pretty easily," Sam said. "It's just a matter of cutting power to the gate, either manually in the power vault or using the computer."

"We still have a pretty big problem," O'Neill said. "Sure, anyone could mimic Daniel for a while without much trouble --"

"Gee, thanks," Jackson muttered.

"-- but if he managed to pass as Vaselov for days or weeks before anyone noticed there was something wrong with him, it's going to be impossible to keep gate operations going."

"I realize that," Weir said, "which is why I want all of our resources devoted to finding a way to detect Anubis, or better yet, get rid of him permanently."

It sounded simple enough when she put it that way: create a method to screen for evil-black-cloud habitation, and also invent a way to kill an immortal creature that had already withstood an attack by the most powerful weapon yet discovered by mankind.

The gate was quickly rendered inoperable with a triple-redundant failsafe system. In order to dial out, someone would have to manually flip the breakers in the main power vault, which was now locked and under armed guard, enter a code into a terminal in the security room to enable both the electronically-controlled portion of the power system and the dialing computer, and then within thirty seconds begin the dialing sequence in the control room. It was clunky and someone sufficiently smart -- say, a Goa'uld who had shown a knack for inventing new technology and possessing people with the right knowledge -- could eventually get around it, but hopefully not before everyone else on base could take the host down. The lockdown was partially lifted, as there was no point in preventing people from leaving the base when Anubis had wafted right through a solid concrete ceiling, but most of the technical and medical staff were stuck there trying to figure out a solution, while the security forces and combat teams stood ready in case Anubis tried something. Cam fell somewhere in between, as both one of the officers responsible for overseeing the security precautions and as host to a skilled technician.

With no lab of his own, and his office horribly unsuited for doing anything scientific, Cam naturally drifted to Sam's lab. She was bent over yet another alien device, although given that the Tok'ra were the ones who had supplied the SGC with Transphase Eradication Rods he wasn't sure it really counted as alien.

"Hey," he said.

She looked at him suspiciously for a few moments, then said, "Hey."

"Need any help?"

More suspicious regard followed, then after the usual flash and nod song and dance Jolinar said, "It has occurred to us that the security problem may be worse than we originally thought. Anubis could potentially take any person as a host."

Cam nodded slowly. "Yeah, hence the entire song and dance with the gate controls."

"Unlike a Goa'uld, however, he can easily switch hosts and completely bypass any physical defenses to stop that from happening. Furthermore, even a symbiote is unable to detect his presence. This, coupled with his apparent ability to at least read surface thoughts of the host, makes it extremely easy for him to find out what countermeasures we are attempting to devise."

"And so he could be prepared for them," Cam said, catching on fast. "Which means that if you had an plan, it'd be a bad idea to share it with anyone."

"Precisely."

"On the other hand, if you have to work alone, you'll probably get things done slower than you would with an extra pair of hands, and implementing a big plan could be difficult. Not to mention that Anubis could notice you're acting suspiciously and hop into your head to see what's wrong."

Jolinar nodded. "You see the dilemma. I do think that it's unlikely he could successfully mimic one of us, however. He would have to control both host and symbiote; otherwise he would be constantly fighting the other. It would be rather obvious."

_"Do you agree?"_ Cam asked Sipka.

_"It seems likely she's correct. Even if he took control over the symbiote, a host would still be able to fight back enough that it would be obvious something was wrong. While a symbiote can forcefully control the host, with a properly blended pair it is... difficult, due to how the nerve connections have grown."_ A glance at Sam reminded them that difficult wasn't the same thing as impossible. She and Jolinar were inseparable partners now, but they hadn't started out that way.

"I guess that makes me a perfect lab partner," Cam said aloud. "We can keep an eye on each other while we work. A big black cloud should be pretty obvious, unless it tries to sneak through our shoes."

"I guess we could use the company," Sam said. She waved him over. "How familiar are you with TERs?"

"They make cloaked people visible and can blow up Reetou but not regular people," Cam said. He let Sipka have control to say, "I helped designed them."

"You did?" Sam said, surprised.

"I was a spy at the time and in service to Lord Yu. When it became apparent that not all of the Reetou had been killed when the Goa'uld incinerated Reetalia, the system lords set to work finding a way to detect and kill them without destroying entire planets. Given that at the time the surviving Reetou saw little distinction between Goa'uld and Tok'ra, I cooperated with Lord Yu in developing the device." Sipka smiled. "Of course, I also liberated several prototypes and the design for the production model, which I've since improved upon."

"That's great. You could be a big help for what I want to try. See, I figure that since Anubis seems to be able to pass through solid matter, he must be out of phase with our reality, although not in quite the same way the Reetou are. I think we should be able to modify the TERs so that they'll make him visible even inside a host. At the moment I'm looking at some scans we made of an Ancient device we discovered a little over a year ago that allowed us to see some creatures in another dimension, since it worked on things that even TERs didn't reveal."

"I remember that report," Cam said. Mass hallucinations of glowing alien insects were hard to forget. "Then what? We just blast him with the 'eradication' part of the TER?"

Sam nodded. "Something like that. The main problem there is that the Reetou are at least partially in-phase as far as physical contact is concerned, and they're also biological in nature. There's no guarantee that what hurts them will hurt Anubis. With that in mind, I basically want to pump up the power of the TERs and throw every kind of high-energy particle and radiation I can at him - just out of phase, so it doesn't hurt the host."

"So step one, build the Anubis equivalent of a black light. Step two, turn the TERs into unlicensed nuclear accelerators. Step three, find him and zap him." Cam shook his head. "I hate to say it, but I'm pretty sure that they didn't cover trans-phase anything as part of aeronautical engineering at the Academy. I'm just going to sit back and let you guys do your thing until we get to step three."

Within minutes Sipka and Sam were deep in a discussion about physics and phase technology that was so far above Cam's head that it may as well have been in orbit. There wasn't really much he could add and while he tried to pay attention he soon found his attention drifting. It was the first time Cam had handed control off to Sipka for more than a few minutes at a stretch, and he found it to be a very odd experience. It was one thing to let her talk, handle an object, or type at a keyboard and another entirely to be a backseat driver in his own body for hours at a time. In many ways it reminded him off how it felt to take a long jog, with his body on autopilot and his mind just sort of drifting along. He found himself thinking about everything from new aerospace combat tactics to what he should get his mother for her upcoming birthday, and even napping at times, emerging only for meals and other breaks when Sipka returned control to him. The only time he started to feel fully engaged was later in the week as they started to work on a prototype. Physically modifying parts and assembling them together was something that he could really understand and learn to do, unlike the more theoretical discussions. It wasn't unpleasant -- in fact, it was actually a bit relaxing -- but he didn't think he could stand to stay that way full-time. He wondered how other hosts handled it, and for that matter the symbiotes. Maybe some people were better suited to just observing and offering advice than he was.

It took the better part of a week for Sam and Sipka to create a pair of prototypes that they felt were worth testing out. They weren't the only ones who had been busy. Other physical scientists were hard at work with their own projects, although none seemed to be making nearly as much progress as they were, and the medical staff were trying to see if there were any biological signs that would indicate Anubis was present in someone. They weren't lacking in test subject; Anubis was making plenty of attempts to escape through the gate. His first try was fairly straightforward. He simply took over one of the control room technicians at 0300 on the second day of the lockdown and tried to dial out. The new safeguards thwarted him easily and the added guards in the room zatted the man immediately, at which point Anubis fled. He tried again the next evening, this time possessing a guard from the security room and trying to activate the bypass from there and then quickly hopping down to the control room to dial out, only to be stopped by both the timer on the dialing computer release. He tried several times to bypass the computer lockouts, taking over different people with access to those systems, but between Sam's security programs and the manual power lockdown they all proved fruitless. The most recent attempt was also the most violent; while in the body of Master Sergeant Siler, Anubis tried to physically rewire the power grid, while simultaneously hacking into the gate using a laptop jury-rigged into a single-address dialing computer. Siler was left with electrical burns and two guards were injured while stopping him.

Needless to say, there was considerable pressure to find a solution, especially since the lack of gate activity meant many off-world bases and trade partners were going unsupplied. It was the medical staff that had the first breakthrough: all of the people who Anubis had taken as a host had light but noticeable burns on their skin and elevated levels of white blood cells and certain neurotransmitters, no matter how little time Anubis had been inside them. It would potentially provide a way to screen people before letting them through the gate, if coupled with close observation between the infirmary and gate room.

"It's a trick," Sam proclaimed when she heard about it. "It's too obvious. He's probably causing that to happen on purpose just so that we'll think we have a reliable test."

"Paranoid much?" Cam asked.

"Maybe a little. Still, even if a pre-mission checkup can show he's in a host, what's to stop him from just going through the gate as a cloud the instant we open a wormhole?"

"Good point." After a few seconds' thought, Cam hefted one of the modified TERs and smiled. "I've got an idea. Let's go see if Anubis left anything else behind on his victims that these can pick up."

Sam picked up the other prototypes and they headed across the base to find their first test subject. Jackson was in his lab, reading an old book and minding his own business.

"Hey, guys," Jackson said. "What's up?"

"Hold still," Cam said, lifting his TER and aiming it at him. "This shouldn't hurt a bit."

"Wait, what?"

Cam turned the TER on. Suddenly Jackson had a pale and sickly green aura surrounding him. None of the literal lab rats that they had tested the devices on before had shown any such coloring, so that was probably a good sign.

"So is that just left-over ectoplasm," Cam asked, "or does that mean Anubis has a sudden interest in Mayan mythology?"

"Probably the former," Sam replied. "Still, better safe than sorry." She flipped the weapon selector from safe to low-power mode, and before Jackson could protest she shot him. The TER sent out a barely-visible pulse that made the air shimmer and punched a neat hole through the aura around Jackson, with no other effect.

"Did you just shoot me?" Jackson asked indignantly.

"Don't worry, we tested it on rats first," Cam assured him.

"Come on, let's see if the same stuff shows up on Siler and the others," Sam said.

All of the people who had been possessed by Anubis showed the same green aura as Jackson did, although the intensity seemed to vary depending on how long it had been since they had been hosts and how long Anubis had inhabited them. That seemed like a fair enough start, since it would at least let them more easily guard the gate and other key areas against him.

They returned to the lab to make a few adjustments to the TERs before informing Doctor Weir and General O'Neill of what they had come up with. It turned out they didn't need to tell the general anything, because he came strolling into the labs they were finishing up.

"So, Daniel says you shot him," O'Neill said without so much as a 'hello'. "Again."

"I didn't shoot him the first time," Sam said. "It was harmless to physical lifeforms anyways."

"Does that mean it's harm_ful_ to our floating and increasingly inconvenient guest?"

"We hope so. We're sure that it can detect Anubis, but not so sure that it can hurt him. We won't know until we try?"

"Mind if I take a look?"

"Not at all, sir. Cam, would you mind?"

Cam picked up one of the prototypes and started to hand it to O'Neill, only to suddenly freeze when he caught a flicker of light from the corner of his eye. He looked down and saw that the TER's detection beam was passing over O'Neill's feet, which were now shining neon green. O'Neill looked down too and then made an annoyed little grunt before throwing himself at Cam. The two of them went down in a heap, the TER falling from Cam's hands and clattering to the floor a few feet away. It was just out of reach and even if it had been closer Cam would have been too busy trying to pry O'Neill's fingers away from his throat. Even his supposedly-superior Tok'ra strength wasn't doing him a lot of good.

Sam came to his rescue, shooting O'Neill in the back with the other TER, and the general collapsed on top of Cam. Anubis came boiling out of his back like a cloud of oil-field smoke and hovered menacingly for a moment. That was all the time it took for Sam to switch her weapon to high-power mode and fire again. A blinding lightning bolt of energy arced from the TER to Anubis, filling the air with an ear-splitting crackle and the smell of ozone. Cam managed to push O'Neill off of him and snagged his own TER and opened fire as well. Anubis' cloud looked like a thundercloud now, filled with thousands of tiny sparks, and large parts of him roiled off the main body, spread out into a thin haze, and finally disappeared entirely. Slowly Anubis crawled up towards the ceiling, finally slipping through to safety albeit barely half as large as he had started out.

"Hah!" Cam said, or rather croaked. "We kicked his ass."

"I guess that means you're okay," Sam said, still watching the ceiling warily. "What about the general?"

Cam felt at O'Neill's neck. "He's out, but he's got a pulse."

"I'll call the infirmary."

O'Neill woke up a short time later and was pronounced fit soon after that, apparently no worse for wear after his close encounter. Since it was now apparent that the modified TERs worked, Sam enlisted the other engineers and technicians on base to start converting more weapons. By midnight they had enough to start sweeping the entire base. There was no sign of Anubis in any of the areas a human could get to; whether he was lurking in the ventilation system, off the base entirely, or finally dead was impossible to say. Plans for a stripped-down and easy-to-manufacture stationary detector suitable for the gate room, security checkpoints, and other critical areas were quickly drawn up as well and sent to Area 51 for them to manufacture. A few more days passed while the base was fitted with the new detectors, but once that was done and there was no sign that Anubis was still trying to penetrate the SGC normal gate operations resumed.

After all the excitement, Cam had to admit that going to a planet with nothing but trees, rocks, and water was a bit of a let-down.

Slowly Cam began settling into a routine. There were regular missions, of course, most of them exploratory in nature with the occasional meeting with allies thrown in. Some went smoothly, like the first, and others less so, like the time they accidentally fell into a lab Anubis had abandoned and then were ambushed by Ba'al's Jaffa on the way home. He spent much of his time between missions in the lab with Sam, allowing Sipka an opportunity to stretch out her metaphorical legs, and got into the habit of routinely sparing with -- and getting his ass kicked by -- Teal'c. He hung out with the other Tok'ra as well, getting to know them and doing his best to fulfill his new role as supervisor, advocate, and mentor. Even though there had been Tok'ra personnel at the SGC for over six years now, they still existed in a little world of their own, with little formal organization. No one seemed to have given much thought about the long-term implications of blendings, particularly when it came to the careers of the younger officers who could no longer fit into the neat checklists used by promotion boards and other parts of the military bureaucracy. There wasn't a lot Cam could do about that at the moment, as evidenced by his own change in position, but he resolved to find a way to get some kind of reform in motion.

Outside of the work, Cam's personal life moved along as well. His bike and other belongs eventually made their way up from Nevada courtesy of a regular cargo shipment between Area 51 and the SGC. Soon after that he moved out Sam's spare room and into a loft apartment a bit closer to the base, although close was a relative term and he soon found that getting around Colorado Springs was as aggravating as ever. Shopping for quality ingredients was also less than satisfying, although he found what he needed to start working his way through all of the personal and family recipes he had accumulated over the years so that he and Sipka could figure out exactly what they could and could not eat. There were no serious problems, besides Cam's discovery that theobromine had a similar effect on symbiotes as catnip did on felines. Cam also got back into the habit of weekly calls to his mother, who was suspicious about both his absence and his sudden reassignment to a deep-space telemetry project. It was during one such call that he found himself begging off Easter, although he promised to do his best to get home for the Fourth.

_"Is there some reason that you don't wish to visit your family?"_ Sipka asked afterwards, while Cam was making brownies.

"Not particularly, no. It'd just be hard to get away from work."

_"You're talking aloud again."_

"I'm in the privacy of my own home, I can talk to thin air if I want."

_"Fair enough. In any case, I'm sure you could get leave approved if you asked. Also, I can tell when you're lying."_

Cam sighed at that reminder that privacy didn't mean what it used to, even in his own head. "Okay, fine. I don't think that I'm ready to face them yet. I mean, how could I explain this, even if I was allowed to? And not telling them at all just doesn't feel right."

_"I am sorry to put you in that position,"_ Sipka said. _"I understand why being dishonest with your family makes you uncomfortable, and I hope that you can find a way to reconcile that. I would not wish for you to be separated from them."_

Her statement distracted Cam from his dilemma and peeked his curiosity. "Do you have any family?"

_"That depends on how you mean it. All Tok'ra are descended from Egeria. I myself was spawned on the planet Tabor, not long before Ra captured her. There were some two hundred in my brood, although only half made it to adulthood. In those last days, the casualties among the Jaffa loyal to Egeria were high. Several others have died since then."_

"I'm sorry."

_"You should not be. They died in service to the cause. In truth, while we certainly share a strong familial bond, we only grow emotionally close later in life."_

"I suppose that makes sense," Cam said. He supposed that if he had thousands of half-siblings, he wouldn't feel the same way as he did for the single brother he did have.

_"It is the memories of my hosts' families that helps me understand what you're experiencing. Many of them lost their loved ones because of the Goa'uld and others to disease. It is remembering those losses that makes me urge you to take any chance you can to be with them. Even if nothing else takes them from you, old age eventually will."_

Cam froze where he stood. "I hadn't even thought of that." He'd obviously known that he'd outlive his parents, assuming he didn't die in the line of duty, but now he realized that there was a good chance that he'd also be around long after everyone else in his immediate family was dead. A host could live for three or four hundred years, barring violence or accident. He'd be just as young and healthy as he was that day when his brother's hypothetical great-grandchildren were in nursing homes.

_"I hope I have not upset you,"_ Sipka said after a few minutes. _"If it helps, you will find that you have a new family among the Tok'ra. They can't replace your biological family, but in time they can help ease the transition."_

"Don't worry about it," Cam said. "Thanks for the advice. Maybe I can find an excuse to swing by some time when there's not as much of a crowd."

_"I urge you to do so. After all, there is nothing to guarantee that we will not meet our own end the next time we step through the stargate."_

"Well, that's not a downer at all."

_"If you feel depressed, perhaps you should hurry and put the brownies in the oven."_

"You do realize that they don't have any effect on me, right?"

_"Ah, but they will certainly help _my_ mood."_

Three months after arriving at the SGC, Cam was working in his office when he got a call from Sam asking that he come to the briefing room as soon as possible. When he got there, Martouf, O'Neill, and Weir were also present. Cam settled into a chair across from Sam, who was sitting next to Martouf. The latter's presence was a bit puzzling; he was supposed to be off-world for most of that week.

"Thanks for coming quickly, everyone," Sam said. "Martouf just returned from a meeting at one of the Tok'ra bases, and he has some information that I think you'll find interesting."

"Well, by all means, let's hear it," Weir said.

Sam stood up and used a remote to dim the lights and turn the big screen at the end of the room. A map of the galaxy appeared, showing several differently-colored splotches, and zoomed in on one star in particular. "This is Ankara, or as our database lists it, P4X-733. It's home to a minor naquadah mine and is located right on the border between the domains of Ba'al and the Morrigan. It's been passed between them several times and is currently controlled by Ba'al. As Goa'uld worlds go, it has a fairly large population of just over twenty million people on the largest continent, most of them working in agriculture to support the mining operations. What makes it more interesting are these."

The image shifted to a picture of a town sitting in the shadow of two ha'tak motherships hovering overhead. They were surrounded by a loose framework, which included large, glowing engines. The motherships themselves still had large holes it their hulls, which visibly shrunk as Sam clicked through several successive pictures.

"There's a Tok'ra spy on the planet who managed to get these images out to us. These are a pair of self-contained mobile shipyards, which are being used to construct two ha'tak-class ships that we believe have all of the latest Goa'uld technology, including the Anubis-designed upgrades. Until recently, the planet hasn't produced enough naquadah to make it worthwhile to locate a yard there, especially since it's been disputed territory and neither system lord wanted to risk giving the other an advantage. We believe that a new naquadah deposit was discovered, one that's large enough to warrant moving a yard in to take advantage of it on-site."

"So Ba'al's building even more ships," O'Neill said dryly. "Woo-hoo."

"I thought you would be thrilled, sir," Sam said. "Given that Ba'al already has a large fleet, the prospect of him gaining an even larger one thanks to this new construction site is worrying."

"Fortunately, our spy has also indicated that the planet is lightly defended at present," Martouf said. "There are only a few hundred Jaffa and no Kull at all, and while the gate is shielded there only seems to be a minimal force of al'kesh and gliders to guard the world from invasion. Most of Ba'al's motherships are tied up defending more important worlds or taking part in offenses against the other system lords. There is a small armada at a nearby base, but it would take time to respond to any threat. The primary defense at this point is obscurity. "

"So it's vulnerable to attack," Cam said. "Sounds great. When do we blow it up?"

"That's the reason why I called this meeting in such a hurry. The ships are almost complete," Sam said. She handed out papers with charts of sensor data. Cam quickly scanned through his copy.

_"It appears that propulsion, life support, shields, and weapons are all complete,"_ Sipka told Cam. _"They are likely waiting only for the troop decks and glider bays to be completed."_

"If these are recent, then we've probably only got a week or two to before they're finished," Cam said.

"Which is why we need to move quickly. What I want to do is steal the ships, _then_ blow up the shipyards." Sam grinned broadly. "Think about it. Right now, we're looking at around a year before we can complete the 304. Instead, we could have another ship by the end of the month. It would have effective weapons, and if we can fit it with Asgard shields it would outclass any ship the system lords field. We might even be able to figure out what makes the shields Anubis designed so effective against Tollan and Asgard weapons."

The hint of a smile started to creep onto O'Neill's face. "Well, I can't say that it wouldn't be nice to get one of those ships and keep it for once. I'm guessing you want one for the Tok'ra and one for Earth?"

"It seems fair, sir."

"That sounds pretty reasonable to me," Weir said. "What resources will you need, and what are the Tok'ra able to offer? "

Sam and Martouf glanced at each other with guilty expressions.

"The High Council thinks it would be safest to wait until more surveillance and planning can be done," Martouf said carefully. "In fact, they did not precisely authorize me to share this information with Stargate Command, but they did not forbid it either."

"Really," O'Neill said. "I don't suppose Jacob has any thoughts about the viability of your plan. You do have a plan, right?"

"We have a plan," Sam said. "And we haven't discussed it with my dad."

"There have been political shifts in the high council recently, after Persus and several others were killed in a Goa'uld attack on one of our bases," Martouf explained. "Because of this, Selmak is no longer in as much favor as he once was. Under the circumstances, we thought it would be best if he had what you call 'plausible deniability' should the council disapprove of our actions."

"Well isn't that just typical," O'Neill said. "No offense to you guys, but sometimes I wonder if most of the High Council remembers that we're fighting a war here and that sometimes you have to take chances."

"No offense is taken," Jolinar said. "I have wondered the same many times."

_"Would the Council really let an opportunity like this pass by?"_ Cam asked Sipka. _"Even just destroying the ships would be better than doing nothing._

_"You must understand, we have lost more of our brethren in the last six years than we did in the last three hundred. Garshaw and Persus in particular were among the best and most forward-looking of us."_ Sipka said. _"Your actions have thrown countless strategies into disarray at the cost of many lives, and now many of the surviving councilors are wary of your tactics. It is understandable, if not necessarily fair. Change is difficult after two thousand years."_

Cam hesitated, then asked, _"What about you?"_

_"My dear, I _asked_ for a Tau'ri host."_

"Be that as it may," Weir said, sending O'Neill a sharp look, "I can't say that I'm thrilled that you're going behind their backs. Still... the rewards for taking action could be pretty substantial. I assume that you think there won't be any diplomatic fall-out if you're successful?"

"I doubt it," Martouf said. "A victory of this magnitude would cover any number of sins as far as the moderates on the council are concerned."

"And if they don't like it," Sam said, "we can always just keep both ships."

"Well, I don't see any reason not to at least hear you out," Weir said. "What's the plan?"

Sam nodded. "As I said earlier, there is a forcefield around the gate, meaning we can't get access to the planet that way. It's where the majority of the guards are at anyways. So we're going to need a ship to get there, one large enough to carry about thirty people. The _Prometheus_ would be ideal, except that there's no way we could approach undetected, and stealth is going to be key. With that in mind, I'd like to take the al'kesh that General O'Neill and Teal'c captured last year during the Avenger incident. I think we can fit it with a cloaking device fairly easily."

"That's the only armed ship we have, other than _Prometheus_," Weir pointed out. "I also thought that some of the key systems had been disassembled for study."

"The shipyard team began reassembling it after the battle over Antarctica," Sam replied. "Also, it's only a mid-range bomber. It has even less firepower and far weaker shields than the _Prometheus_. While I think the risk of losing it is minimal, if something does go wrong there shouldn't be any major repercussions for our defensive capabilities."

"Okay, let's say we give you the ship for a few days," O'Neill said. "What's the plan? Ring aboard and then take the ship?"

"Something like that," Sam said. "The problem is that the rings will be secured so that they'll only accept transmissions from guarded rings on the surface. We'll have to get aboard to change the setting, then we can ring combat teams aboard."

"Okay, I'll bite," Cam said. "How are we going to do that?"

Sam grinned. "That's where you come in. Have you seen the new helicopter UAVs we've been experimenting with?"

Several days later, they were at Area 51 along with the rest of SG-1 and several other teams. The al'kesh had been equipped with a cloaking device that Sam had scrounged up from somewhere and was loaded with two UAVs. The SGC had purchased the remote-controlled helicopters from a small up-and-coming aerospace firm with the intent of sending them through the gate as scouts when regular UAVs didn't have room to clear obstacles on the other side. They had been modified for the mission so they could deliver a very unusual payload.

"This is a stupid plan," Aldwin said from where he sat at the ship's helm, performing the pre-flight procedures. "Those machines in the hold are probably going to slice you into a hundred pieces, or smash into the ground."

"I think they have a rather delightful simplicity, and I have every confidence that they will function well," Sipka told him. She and Cam were at the co-pilot's console. She was guiding him through their half of the pre-flight and teaching him to work the controls. It was both a conscious and unconscious way of learning; while at times he had to ask questions, for the most part he found that he already had a deep understanding of the ship's systems.

"I think they're kind of cool, too," Elliot put it, before Aldwin went on to say, "Of course, even if you do get aboard, there's every chance that there will be hundreds of Jaffa already there."

"Which is why we'll check with our spy before continuing with the mission," Sipka said.

"Besides," Elliot said. "We've got an entire platoon of recon marines along. The Jaffa don't stand a chance, even if they do outnumber us."

"Lieutenant," Cam said, "try to remember that we're airmen. We're supposed to have an aloof disdain for jarheads, not think they're awesome."

"Yes, sir," Elliot said with a grin. "Maybe I should rephrase it. The marines will kick their asses, but only because we managed to get them there to do it."

"That's better."

"Of course," Aldwin said, "even if by some miracle we succeed, I can only imagine the kind of fit that Delek will throw just on general principle. No doubt he'll rant and rave about corruption and recklessness and insubordination, with his allies nodding along."

"Has he always been this much of a downer?" Cam asked.

Sipka answered aloud, "Only for the last fifteen hundred or so years. He was quite upbeat when we were younger."

"I was, wasn't I?" Aldwin said with a fond smile. "And you were considerably more sensible."

"Perhaps, although given that you are going along with, what did you used to call them? 'Yet another of Jolinar's reckless and dangerous schemes,' I believe? I'm not sure you have room to be determining whether others are more or less sensible."

"Strictly speaking the scheme is Colonel Carter's," Aldwin said. "You'll notice that we're not raising up a peasant army and are instead sneaking in with a small special forces unit. It's very subtle compared to Jolinar's usual ideas." There was a pause, then Elliot added, "Although I have to disagree a little, since even recon marines are rarely considered subtle, especially when pulling off grand theft mothership."

"A true statement, perhaps, but an evasive one nonetheless," Sipka said. "Admit it. You're a just a little excited."

"Maybe just a little," Aldwin said. "But don't tell Delek I said so."

"Don't tell Delek what?" Sam asked as she entered the bridge.

"Anything," Cam said.

"Fine by me," Sam said. "We can just keep the second mothership for ourselves."

"If we do," Elliot said, "I call dibs on being captain."

Cam and Sam both looked at him. "You can just keep on dreaming, Lieutenant," Cam told him. "Are we ready to go?"

"Everything's loaded and locked down," Sam said.

"Great. Aldwin, take us up."

After a brief exchange with flight control, the al'kesh lifted through the open bay door above them. Cam activated the cloak as it did, just to make sure that no one looking the wrong direction caught sight of the ship. It took less than a minute to exit the atmosphere and as soon as they were clear they entered hyperspace.

They arrived at Ankara a day later and landed in a clearing not far from the town where the shipyards and the new naquadah mine were located. Their cloaking device kept them concealed from the flights of gliders patrolling the skies. When darkness fell, they used the rather lower-tech solution of camo nets to provide cover as they started unloading the UAVs from the cargo hold.

Not long after sunset, a figure emerged from the surrounding forest. He had the proper challenge response and was escorted up to the bridge by the marines.

"Malek, it's good to see you," Sam said. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Cameron Mitchell, Sipka's new host. Cam, this is Malek, the spy who's been relaying intelligence from here."

"A pleasure," Malek said with a nod.

"Likewise," Cam said.

"I must say, I was surprised to receive your transmission," Malek told Sam. "And I am even more surprised to see you here with a ship and troops. I was under the impression that the High Council had decided not to act immediately."

"Strictly speaking, this operation is being conducted under the auspices of Stargate Command," Cam said.

Malek gave him a tired look and pursed his lips. "I see. That is... well, I can hardly say completely unexpected. I shall do my best to assist you regardless."

"Thanks. According to the information we received, the ships are mostly unguarded at night. Is that still true?"

"It is," Malek said with a nod. "No work is done at night, and so most of the Jaffa return to the surface. However, the stargate and the rings are still fully guarded, and approaching close to the shipyards with a ship the size of an al'kesh would be impossible, even with a cloak. They would detect the atmospheric disturbances and engage the shields, which are functional. At that point you would be vulnerable to attacks from the garrison's gliders and al'kesh."

"We don't plan to use the ship to get up there. We've brought our own rides. Come on, we'll show you." Cam lead Malek under the al'kesh to where the UAVs were being reassembled for flight. "Behold, the Skylark Industries 'Dragonfly' unmanned aerial vehicle."

The main body of the Dragonflies resembled that of their namesakes. They were twenty feet long and thin, with a bulging head holding the avionics and sensors, a middle section holding the engine and an underslung mission-adaptable module meant to hold anything from ground-penetrating radar to Hellfire missiles, and a long boom for fuel and the rear stabilizer propeller. Originally there had been a pair of long, slim propeller blades overhead, but those had been cut down considerably by the SGC in order to make it possible to fit them through the gate. Instead there were two smaller steerable fans for maneuvering and forward thrust, supplemented by an anti-gravity device. The UAVs had been designed primarily for assisting search-and-rescue and surveillance missions, but the SGC had adapted them for scouting through the gate in places where a MALP or a fixed-wing UAV couldn't go easily. Now they had been adapted even more for this mission.

"Correct me if I am wrong," Malek said, raising an eyebrow, "but would not 'unmanned' imply that there is no crew? If so, why are there chairs?"

Beneath the middle of each Dragonfly there were now a pair of seats lifted from civilian ultralights, fixed together in a way that they were back to back. They looked more like lawn chairs than anything you would actually want to sit in while several thousand feet in the air.

"We've made a few changes," Sam said. "I wouldn't want to spend too long riding them, but they'll do for what we have we have planned."

Malek opened and closed his mouth several times. Finally he said, "You best approach would be to use one of the hangar bays for entry. Failing that, many of the escape pods have not yet been installed, so you might gain access through those ports."

"We were hoping that would be the case. Anything else?"

"Nothing that I'm sure you haven't heard several times before," Malek said with another glance at the Dragonflies. "My initial report included all information I could gather, and little has changed since then."

"All right, then," Cam said. "We're just waiting until dark to get started. You want to join the attack? All the cool kids are doing it."

"Given that it would be unwise to remain regardless of what happens," Malek said, "I may as well assist in making this mission a success."

"Great. Go talk to Sergeant Vasquez, she'll get you set up with some weapons and a team assignment."

They waited until after midnight before leaving, wanting to time their approach for after moonset so that there would be only starlight for the Jaffa to see by. While there were sensors surrounding the shipyard, they were meant to detect much larger vehicles or ships with powerful engines. The Dragonflies were small enough to go unnoticed and fairly quiet, leaving only visual detection a concern. The ships also had internal sensors, but they had access to a special isotope that would prevent them from showing up for a short time.

"You know, I always wanted to fly an ultralight, but I never really had the time," Cam said as he strapped himself into the pilot's chair of one Dragonfly. There was a makeshift control board and joystick in front of him, closer to an oversized arcade game console than a proper set of instruments. He was wearing night-vision goggles, making everything an odd green color.

"I can not say the same, Colonel Mitchell," Teal'c replied from behind him.

"Really? I mean, don't get me wrong, I love jets, but flying around in the open air, barely anything between you and the sky - there's something breathtaking about that."

"Breathtaking is not the word that I would use."

"Yeah? What would you describe it as?"

"Unwise."

"Well, yeah. That's half the point." Teal'c started giving Cam the silent treatment at that point, so Cam put on his helmet and toggled the radio. "Sam, you two ready over there?"

"As ready as we're going to be."

"Okay. Let's do this thing. Aldwin, take the ship up and to the stand-by coordinates."

There was a swirl of wind as the cloaked al'kesh took off, leaving just the two Dragonflies behind in the clearing. Cam and Sam started up their engines and immediately the characteristic thumping roar of helicopter blades filled the air. The Dragonflies were designed to be as quiet as was possible for aircraft their size, but that didn't help much when you were seated ten feet under the propellers. Cam opened up the throttle and up they went, clearing the treetops and ascending up to a height of three thousand feet, level with the distant motherships. The ground was pitch black beneath them, except for the torch-lit garrison around the stargate and a few more specks of light here and there in the town. The motherships themselves were dark voids against the night sky, their windows and running lights dead. It was only when Cam was a few hundred meters out that the goggles started to resolve details on the ships' surfaces and it really struck home how huge they were. Each one was twice as wide as an aircraft carrier was long and was nearly eight times more massive. There were turrets with super-heavy staff cannons the size of a tractor trailer, dozens of smaller defensive weapons, hangar and cargo bays, and glyphs twice the height of a man proclaiming the greater glory of Ba'al.

They circled the base of the ships at close range. After two passes, Cam said, "It looks like the hangar bays are sealed."

"Same over here," Sam replied. "Looks like we'll have to go with plan B."

Cam flew up to the top side of the ship's outer superstructure and in to where it met the pyramid-shaped core. After a short search he spotted a series of circular ports in the hull. Like most Goa'uld ships this one was equipped with small one-man escape pods, although not enough for all of the thousands of troops the ship could carry when fully loaded, just the commanding Goa'uld and the most important Jaffa. Cam landed his aircraft next to one hatch and used a magnetic grapple to secure it to the hull.

"Here comes the really fun part," Cam muttered. Flying in a makeshift helicopter was one thing. Walking across a mothership's hull while half a mile above the ground was completely different. He and Teal'c secured themselves to the frame of the Dragonfly with safety lines and started to trek over to the escape hatch. It was less than a dozen yards but it felt like it was much further thanks to the strong winds at that altitude. Upon reaching the hatch Cam knelt down, pulled a device from one of his pockets, and stuck it next to the hatch. Indicator lights circled around the rim as it worked, then flashed simultaneously when it successfully connected with the internal controls. The hatch hissed open to reveal a cylindrical space just large enough for Cam and Teal'c to fit into. They dropped into it, and a minute later they had the inner door open as well.

"That wasn't so hard," Cam said, taking off his flight helmet and goggles. He tossed them into the open pod bay and once Teal'c had done the same he closed the door so that no passing patrols could spot the discarded gear.

Teal'c regarded him with a blank look, then gestured with his staff weapon and said, "This way."

The corridors of the mothership were dimly lit, even by Goa'uld standards, but still navigable. They had a distinct unfinished feel to them as well. There were torch-holders but no torches, plinths for missing statues, and blank spaces on the wall where they should have been art or inscriptions. There were piles of boxes and equipment here and there, along with open access panels in the wall. There were no signs of any people, but just to be safe Cam and Teal'c took a circuitous route through the ship's outer areas. Their destination was one of the secondary maintenance rooms located in the ship's engineering areas, working under the assumption that it would probably be unattended, unlike the pel'tak or the main computer core. That proved to be correct and they arrived without incident. The maintenance room was little more than a rectangular space, about twelve feet wide and twenty long, with a console at one end facing a screen in the wall, sliding panel at the other end, and the entrance midway between them.

"Watch the door," Cam quietly told Teal'c. That netted him an eyebrow.

"Are you sure that is the best choice, Colonel Mitchell? It is possible they are patrolling the crawlspaces or air vents."

Cam held up his hands. "Okay, sorry, that was probably a little obvious. Never mind me, do whatever you think is best." He slid open the panel at the rear of the room, revealing a bank of glowing crystal tubes. Sipka took over at that point, examining the crystals until she found a particular pink one, no different from the rest as far as Cam could tell, and replaced it with a crystal they had brought. Next she went to the control console and began entering commands.

_"I have activated the maintenance cycle for the ring control system,"_ she told Cam a few minutes later. _"It will take approximately ten minutes to complete, at which point it will automatically load the codes on the new crystal and we will be able to reprogram the access locks."_

Cam clicked his radio. After getting two clicks in reply, he said, "Sam, we're uploading the new program now. How are you guys doing?"

"We're on schedule. Call it another ten minutes or so."

"Same here. Aldwin, stand by at your end."

The next ten minutes passed like cold molasses. The computer happily went about its business with no further input, leaving nothing for them to do but wait and hope no passing Jaffa decided to look inside the room on a whim. Cam had no doubt that he and Teal'c -- mostly Teal'c -- could eliminate one or two guards without any trouble, but doing so would mean that sooner or later someone would notice they were missing, and sooner might mean soon enough that someone raised the alarm.

They were lucky for once, though, and no one bothered them before the ring system restarted. From there it only took a minute for Sipka to make a few changes to the system so that the rings on the surface were locked out, while the rings on the al'kesh were now authorized.

"We're done," Sipka announced, just seconds before Sam radioed in to say the same.

"All teams, prepare to engage," Cam said. He and Teal'c exited the maintenance room and headed for the nearest stairwell. They climbed up a dozen flights until they were on the same deck as the pel'tac. This particular ha'tak didn't have a set directly of rings right inside the pel'tac, but there were some just down the hall. Cam and Teal'c would wait there until Sam and Jackson were in a similar position on their ship, and then the other teams would start coming aboard.

Or that was the idea, right up until they were sneaking into the alcove where the rings were located and the door to the pel'tac opened up. Teal'c spun around and blasted the Jaffa who was stepping before the poor guy could do more than open his mouth. Unfortunately, he wasn't alone, and there were shouts of alarm from inside, followed by a siren.

"We've been made!" Cam said into his radio. "Red team, go, go, go!"

The other three Jaffa inside the pel'tac obligingly emerged into the corridor and were quickly gunned down, even as marines and Tok'ra began ringing in. They started spreading out in pairs to search the ship for the remaining Jaffa, while Cam entered the pel'tac and took his place at the master control console. A quick stab at key made the siren shut down, along with the accompanying distress beacon, and a few more strokes brought up the internal sensors. There were only twenty more Jaffa on the ship, and while they were all converging on the pel'tak they were still largely spread out across the ship in pairs. In short order there were fifteen marines and three more Tok'ra aboard and the Jaffa were quickly taken care of.

"You know, we were so close to having things go exactly as planned," Cam griped.

"As your people say, close counts solely with hand grenades and thermonuclear warfare," Teal'c said.

"That's... not exactly how the saying goes," Cam said. "Man the weapons station. I want to be ready to defend ourselves if someone on the ground decides to use those gliders and al'kesh against us."

"There does not appear to be power to weapons," Teal'c reported. "In fact, all primary systems are off-line."

"What, everything?" Cam began manipulating the controls, with only a little prodding here and there from Sipka. They had planned for activating some systems, especially ones like weapons and shields, but it appeared that even the main engines and generators were all shut down. The ship was running only on power supplied by an umbilical from the shipyard. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Vasquez, Andren! Find out why we don't have power and fix it, fast." He reached for his radio. "Sam, how's it going over there?"

"Everything's going as planned," she said. "We caught the Jaffa completely by surprise and we have control of the ship."

"No engine problems?"

"No, not at all. We're already powering up the tactical systems and preparing to disconnect the shipyard. Why, is something wrong?"

"Yeah, we're completely shut down over here, and the Jaffa got off a short distress call. Do you have any idea how long it might take someone to respond?"

There was a short pause. "Malek says that Ba'al could probably have a couple motherships here within twenty or thirty minutes. Ground troops could arrive a lot faster, but they won't be a problem."

_"It might be possible to have the ship ready to depart if we work fast,"_ Sipka said. _"Maybe. It depends on why the engines are down."_

Cam thought for a minute. They could make a clean getaway if they just moved over to Sam's ship and abandoned the one he was one. On the other hand, if there was even a chance of getting away with both, he didn't want to let it slip away just because he was too cautious.

"Here's what we're going to do. Sipka says that we can probably get the ship running before that, so we're going to give it our best shot. As soon as you're ready to go, I want you to leave. Aldwin will stay with the al'kesh, and if Ba'al's forces arrive before we can depart, we'll ring back to it after setting the ship's self-destruct."

"We're not leaving without you," Sam said firmly.

"That was an order, Colonel Carter."

"I'm sorry, Cam. There's static on the connection, I can't quite make you out. We're going to get our weapons online and cover you against any counter-attacks. The garrison doesn't seem to have noticed the alarm yet, but if those al'kesh twitch we'll blast them."

Cam sighed and looked at Teal'c. "Why do I even pretend that you people do more than consider anything I say a suggestion?"

"Because thus far you have, in general, been wise about when you give orders and when you listen to your more experienced companions, and we have been content to follow your lead."

"And that order wasn't wise enough for Sam's standards."

"Indeed."

"Wonderful."

There was nothing Cam could do about the sudden intransigence of his supposed subordinate short of ringing over to the other ha'tak and wringing her neck, which would probably be counter-productive. Instead he sat back and stewed a little while Sipka directed the effort to get the ship operational. The problem quickly became apparent: several critical parts of the main engines had been disconnected for inspection. It was nothing that couldn't be fixed by _re_connecting them, but that would take a fair amount of time to do with the limited manpower they had. Even as it was, Sipka was violating a dozen safety rules by pre-starting as many of the engine components as she could and running checks on all of the other systems so that they'd be ready to go as soon as there was power. The shields were already up and running off of the shipyard's power supply, although at a considerably weaker strength than normal.

It was about fifteen minutes in, just as Cam was starting to get his hopes up, when six ha'taks and twice as many escorting al'kesh dropped out of hyperspace in orbit and immediately assumed an attack formation.

"Awww, come on," Cam said. "Sam, are you ready over there?"

"We can take off at any time."

"Okay. We may have to abandon this ship after all, so stand by." Cam then subvocalized, _"Sipka, how much longer?"_

_"We'll have main power and propulsion in two minutes. However, we haven't even begun separation procedures to free us from the shipyard. That will take at least another fifteen minutes, time which I do not think we have."_

It was what Cam had expected to hear. Before he could give the order to abandon ship, though, Teal'c spoke up. "Colonel Mitchell. The garrison has finally begun launching its gliders and al'kesh. They are headed toward the ships in orbit."

"That's... good?" Cam called up the sensors on the main display. The two defending al'kesh and twenty gliders were headed for the newcomers, which were launching their own gliders along with troop transports. Any doubt as to whether they were just joining forces was dispelled when the garrison ships were quickly destroyed. Moments after the last of them fell, the new ha'taks sent out a transmission. A tall, regal woman with long red hair and black leather clothes appeared on the screen. She was seated on a stone throne topped by two ravens carved from obsidian.

"Servants of Ba'al," she said. "I am the Morrigan, and I have come here to claim what is rightfully mine. Your space defenses have been utterly destroyed, and your chappa'ai is now blocked by an incoming wormhole. Above you sits a powerful fleet and transports filled with thousands of my best Jaffa. I offer you this one chance to surrender. Do so and I shall spare your lives. Resist, and your entrails shall be a feast for my crows."

"Okay, time for a new plan," Cam said after a few moments of stunned silence. "Just give me a minute to come up with one."

_"Perhaps we can use this ship as a decoy,"_ Sipka suggested. _"We have power for weapons and shields now. We can open fire, and while they concentrate on this ship we can ring to the other and escape before they can stop us."_

_"I have a better idea. Is there any reason we can't just fly away with the shipyard still attached?"_

There was a long pause before Sipka said, _"Excuse me?"_

_"I mean, it has gravity engines that keep us aloft, right? So it shouldn't slow us down much at sublight speeds. And a couple of years ago SG-1 used a cargo ship to fly an asteroid a hundred miles long through hyperspace. The yard is just a frame wrapped around the perimeter of the ship. Why can't we just expand our drive field to encompass the entire thing and take it with us?"_

_"While it is technically possible, I am not sure that I would recommend it. I think it would be extremely difficult to pilot, and the stress of flight might cause the yard might break away. Should that happen in hyperspace, the results could be disastrous."_

_"Trust me, I can pilot anything."_

_"This is not a fighter ship. You can't possibly hope to evade fire from all those ships at once, and even minor damage could damage the support structures between the ship and the yard enough to make catastrophic separation inevitable."_

_"I don't think we'll need to worry about that. Just start making whatever adjustments you need to. Oh, and can you make me speak with the buzzy voice?"_

_"Why would you possibly - oh, never mind. Yes, I can."_

"Great." Cam clicked his radio. "Sam, hold on for a minute. We're going to try to stall long enough for Ba'al's reinforcements to arrive, then escape when the inevitable space battle starts."

"What makes you think they've noticed the distress signal?" Sam asked. "It was only on for a few seconds. The garrison didn't even realize something was wrong until the Morrigan showed up."

"I'm just hoping they're more on the ball. If it doesn't work, we'll use this ship as a decoy and then escape on yours. Teal'c, open a channel to the Morrigan, and make sure she can only see my face."

"It is done."

Cam cleared his throat, and when he spoke Sipka made his voice vibrate, even as she used his hands to continue entering commands to the ship's hyperdrive. "I am Tristya, underlord of this world," Cam said, drawing the name from Sipka's memory. "By what right do you claim this planet?"

"My claim is ancient and just, far predating that of the usurper Ba'al," the Morrigan proclaimed, "and it is now backed by right of conquest. You will surrender at once."

"You can not possibly hope to hold this world against Ba'al. Even now his great fleet approaches, in sufficient strength to crush your pitiful force."

"It does not. We have been jamming all transmissions from the moment we arrived. Ba'al will not realize what has happened until long after I have strung you from a tree with your own intestines."

"Perhaps that is so, but the fact remains, this planet is too close to his main worlds for you to maintain control over it for long with only the force you have brought. If you commit more ships to defend it, you will leave yourself vulnerable to attack by the other system lords."

"In that case," the Morrigan said, "perhaps I should destroy the entire planet now. It would be fitting, given that Ba'al has a habit of doing the same in the face of defeat."

_"One more minute,"_ Sipka said silently.

"That would be an... unfortunate waste of resources," Cam said. "I have another proposal."

"Oh?"

"I suspect that you learned that these ships are almost complete and came here to capture them, with no intention of keeping the planet. I suggest that I surrender the ships to your control. In return, you will grant me sanctuary and a position of power. I have no intention of remaining here to face Ba'al's wrath, assuming you don't plan to burn the planet once you have the ships."

The Morrigan arched an eyebrow. "Give a position of power to someone who is even now showing that he is untrustworthy? It seems like a very unintelligent thing to do."

"Give me a chance to prove myself to you. Your wisdom is renowned around the galaxy and I am sure that you would not show the same folly that Ba'al has in providing such pitiful force to defend such a tempting target."

"I will grant you sanctuary," the Morrigan said with a smile. "More than that will depend on whether you can convince me of your worth. You do appear as though you could perform some kind of useful service to me."

Cam tipped his head. "I will be pleased to serve in whatever capacity you desire, my lady. I must reset the security aboard these ships to allow your troops to ring aboard. It should only take a few minutes. I will also instruct the Jaffa to lay down their arms and surrender."

"Work quickly. My patience is not without limit."

"Of course, my lady." With that, Cam closed the channel and turned to Teal'c. "That should..." He paused to let Sipka stop the voice thing. "That should buy us a few minutes. There's no guarantee Ba'al is going to show up before she decides to stop waiting around, though. I want you and everyone else to ring over to the al'kesh. There's no reason to put you all at risk if this doesn't work."

"I shall instruct the others to do so," Teal'c replied. "However, I shall remain in order to operate the weapons while we escape."

"I'm guessing that trying to make you do it would fall under the category of 'unwise'."

"I believe you would be correct, Colonel Mitchell."

Although marines and other Tok'ra protested, they followed orders better than Cam's team did and quickly retreated to the cloaked al'kesh. After that it turned into a waiting game again, second and then minutes ticking by as they waited to see just where the limit of the Morrigan's patience was. They didn't get a chance to find out, because at just under four minutes seven ha'taks emerged from hyperspace and began launching gliders. As both fleets took up new formations to confront each other, they started transmitting messages in the clear.

"Ah, Morrigan," said a silky-smooth voice that could only be Ba'al. "What a surprise. I must say, I'm disappointed. I never imagined that you would stoop to outright theft."

"I am no thief," the Morrigan hissed. "I won those ships in open battle against the pathetic garrison you left to guard them."

"You only attacked openly because you were caught in the process. I am curious, though. How did your infiltrators bypass the security system? You may as well tell me -- I'll have all the time in the world to get the answer once this is over."

"Teal'c," Cam said, "figure out which of those ha'taks are the flagships and shoot them both, would you?"

"Gladly."

Dull thumps reverberated through the hull as Teal'c opened fire. Within seconds the two fleets overhead were shooting at each other, the motherships pounding away with massive energy bolts while gliders and al'kesh buzzed all around them. They were completely absorbed with each other and paid no attention to the two supposedly-incomplete ships down near the surface.

"That's our cue," Cam said. "Sam, I'm going to try to take us on a tangent instead of straight up and try to steer clear of the battle. Watch our backs."

"Don't worry," Sam said. "We've got you covered."

Cam put his hands onto the command console and concentrated on the flight controls, drawing on every memory Sipka had of the ship's systems and capabilities. He had never flown anything larger than a six-man Piper, but there was no doubt in his mind that he could wring ever last bit of performance out of the mothership. For all its bulk, a ha'tak's inertial drives made it fast and maneuverable once clear of a planetary gravity well, and even inside the atmosphere it could outperform anything humans had built up until the advent of the X-302 and X-303 programs. Under other circumstances they could have been halfway across the continent and then into open within minutes, but with the shipyard still wrapped around the ship he took it slow, pushing the ship to first a hundred kilometers an hour, then two hundred, confident that the shields would protect them from atmospheric drag. Sam's ship followed along, its own shipyard suddenly expanding and dropping away as the separation sequence initiated. It hovered in mid-air for a few seconds before exploding charges on the engines placed by the assault team detonated.

"You know," Cam said, "this doesn't actually handle that badly at all." He increased drive power a few percent and the ship started to vibrate; it was just a low, barely-noticeable, almost-subsonic hum, but definitely a vibration. Fifteen-million-ton motherships were not supposed to vibrate like a car with a loose bearing or two.

_"There's a sympathetic interference between the inertia drive and the anti-gravity engines of the shipyard,"_ Sipka said. _"If you push the drive much harder, it would increase exponentially and the results would extraordinarily unpleasant."_

_"Can you stop it?"_

_"Not while we're accelerating, I'm afraid. Simply killing the engines at this point might destabilize the drive field. It shouldn't interfere with the hyperdrive, though."_

_"And we didn't kill the engines earlier because...?"_

_"Because we would have dropped out of the sky? There's meant to be a controlled hand-off between the shipyard and the ship's drive as part of the separation process. Besides, I didn't know this would happen. No one's been stupid enough to try this before."_

_"Wonderful."_

Cam tried rotating the ship in different directions in the hopes that changing their angle of light relative to the thrust from the anti-gravs would help, but it was only when he directed the ship so that it was flying upwards point-first that he managed to safely get more speed. That presented a new problem, though. Even traveling at the speed of sound, they hadn't covered much ground on a planetary scale, and now they were headed up towards the battle while still within line of sight of all the dueling ships. The further they got from the surface, the more speed the drives gave for the same power output, but they were still practically crawling into space.

They remained unnoticed for another minute, but as they cleared the edge of the atmosphere, four of the Morrigan's al'kesh and dozens of gliders swooped down on them, firing a torrent staff blasts and plasma bombs. They swarmed around the two ha'taks like horseflies, nipping and biting at the huge ships. The gliders were difficult to hit but had little effect on the motherships' shields, but the bombs of the al'kesh could potentially cause damage, especially to Cam's vulnerable ship. Teal'c made short work of the ones focusing on them, skillfully smashing them one after another with the defense guns, but that only attracted more attention. Soon two enemy ha'taks were taking potshots at them, and while Sam tried to interpose her ship between them and Cam's ship, the angles were too wide for her to shield him from them all. It came down to Cam's piloting skill in the end. He sent the ship spinning and twisting through space, pushing to the limits that the drive interference allowed and using the thrust from the shipyard's engines to boost the ship in directions that shouldn't have been possible. Gold bolts, some almost as long as the ship itself, shot past in all directions, some missing by the tiniest of margins. They returned fire, of course, concentrating on first one ship and then the other in the hopes of keeping them off-balance and forcing them to divert power to shields, but the enemy had a far greater margin for soaking up damage than Cam's ship did. One or two good hits could knock something loose, and that would be all she wrote.

Slowly they built up velocity, inching closer and closer to the critical threshold for a hyperspace jump. It was the lamed drives that slowed them again; under normal circumstances, they could have jumped as soon as they cleared the atmosphere, but with such low maximum acceleration they couldn't be sure they'd clear the hyperspace window safely. They passed the most bare-minimum threshold just as a third ha'tak opened fire and Cam punched the engines rather than wait even a few more seconds, the risk of a bad transition outweighed by the risk of damaged. A blue window swirled into existence dead ahead as Cam killed all the sublight drives and let them coast threw into the safety of hyperspace.

"Fuck me. We actually pulled it off," Cam said as he stared at the blue swirls of hyperspace. He felt his hands move as Sipka began the remote shutdown procedure for the anti-gravity engines.

"Indeed," Teal'c said.

After that, the six-hour flight back to the Alpha Site was practically serene. They received word that Sam had entered hyperspace right behind them and Aldwin had flown around to the opposite side of the planet and made his own jump unnoticed, taking that last concern off of Cam's mind. While the only furnishings on the ship was a throne made from a dark blue metal on the pel'tac, the waste disposal systems were fully functional and neither Teal'c nor Sipka needed to sleep. Cam, on the other hand, spent most of the trip snoozing while Sipka puttered about in their body and made sure the ship didn't explode or crash into anything.

Their arrival sparked a brief and, from Cam's point of view, amusing panic on the part of the Alpha Site's staff. Sam parked her ship on a nearby floodplain and then she and the others ringed over to detach the shipyard in the normal and non-life-threatening way. Soon their ship was landed as well, while the yard was left hovering over the base.

"I can't believe you did that," Sam said later as they and everyone else who had participated in the mission ate in the base's mess hall. There was a celebratory mood in the air and while there was no alcohol on the base, Cam had already promised that over the weekend there would be a get-together with more than enough to go around.

"You're just jealous that you didn't think of it first," Cam replied. "In fact, I bet that you're beating yourself up because you realize that we could have had stealing the shipyards too, as part of our original plan."

"Maybe a little," Sam said. "But still, doing it on the fly and while you're being shot at? That's just a little bit nuts."

"You blew up a star once."

Sam rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Why does everyone always bring up the star?"

"Because it was very memorable," Aldwin said.

"It was, wasn't it?" she said, a smile growing on her face. "Hopefully we'll have a little more luck with these ships than the one we used to that particular stunt. Don't get me wrong, I'm proud of the work we've done with _Prometheus_, but it felt good to be flying a ship with some actual guns for once."

"Do you have any idea what's going to be done with the ships now?" Elliot asked.

Sam shook her head. "We pulled this together so fast that I doubt anyone's really given it much thought. We'll probably equip the one the SGC is keeping with some Asgard upgrades, and I'm sure we'll put Cam's prize to good use, too. Having a fully automated shipyard of that size is going to speed up our construction ability a lot. As for the other ship, I guess that's up to the High Council to decide about."

"I think you were right earlier. We should keep it," Elliot said. When they both chuckled, he shook his head and said, "No, really, I'm serious. I don't necessarily mean Earth, just our cell of Tok'ra. The High Council didn't take any of the risks, so why should they get the reward? Besides, we could do a lot more good with it. The Asgard might agree to equip it if they that know Samantha Carter and Jolinar of Malkshur will be around to supervise its use, but you'll notice they haven't exactly been handing over their cloning technology no matter how much the High Council begs them."

Cam and Sam looked at each other. Elliot did have a point about the lack of action on the part of the High Council. While Cam hadn't interacted much with the upper levels of the Tok'ra hierarchy, he had been getting the impression that the High Council wasn't what it used to be these days, increasingly risk-averse after the considerable Tok'ra casualties that had accompanied the wars of the last few years.

"I can't say I disagree," Cam said to the others after a minute. "But we should probably leave the politics up to the people in charge."

"Preferably to General O'Neill," Sam said.

"I'm pretty sure that'd be a bad idea," Cam said. "I think he'd take a lot of pleasure in finding new and inventive ways to annoy the Tok'ra representatives and nothing would get done at all. In case you haven't noticed, he doesn't actually like most of them."

"Exactly."

The conversation turned to other things after that, and once their were finished eating they all returned to the SGC and, as it was past midnight, on to home from there. In the morning Doctor Weir and General O'Neill were fairly effusive in their praise and there was talk of commendations, although Cam wasn't sure that he personally had done anything particularly worthy of one. The fate of the ships was set aside for the future, as the more immediate concern was making sure there were none of the hidden booby traps or counter-insurgency programs that had become increasingly popular with the Goa'uld as the Jaffa rebellion grew in scope. No one would get to have a ship if they decided to fly off into the nearest star or simply overloaded the hyperdrive and vaporized everything within two hundred miles, after all.

There was also the other concern: paperwork. Needless to say, there was a great deal of it. First and foremost were the stack of forms and reports required to officially combat-loss a pair of ten million dollar Dragonfly not-really-unmanned-AVs. Cam's had fallen off the mothership at some point in the flight, and while Sam's had miraculously remained attached, all of the moving parts were vacuum-welded and the all the electronics bar the anti-grav system had frozen and splintered into a thousand useless pieces. Never mind that they had been discarded in the process of obtaining two motherships that were worth, conservatively speak, somewhere between thirty billion dollars and completely priceless, the aircraft still had to be properly accounted for. The motherships themselves caused no small amount of bureaucratic confusion, as the Pentagon demanded that they actually be properly documented, probably just in case they were lost like the last two; eventually obscure Navy and Coast Guard regulations and forms about capturing enemy ships were dug up for use. Cam was fairly certain that Captain Kirk never had to put up with any of this.

Late that afternoon, Cam, Sam, and most of the usual suspects were gathered around the table in the Tok'ra Clubhouse and working their way through the mountain of work. Suddenly the door slammed open, revealing a small crowd of people. At the front was Delek, a member of the Tok'ra council and leading candidate for the next leader, followed by Weir and a small horde of airmen and Tok'ra minions. As everyone around the table stood up, Delek stalked into the room, a furious scowl on his face.

"So," Delek said, "here are the supposed heroes of Ankara."

Cam held out his hand and smiled. "Good afternoon, sir. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Cameron --"

"I know who you are," Delek snapped. "What I do not know is what you were thinking, or indeed if you are even capable of thought at all."

Cam slowly lowered his arm. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Do you have any idea what you have done?"

Sam stepped forward to stand at Cam's side, arms crossed and face hard. "We've done what you were too slow or timid to do. We insured that those ships would not be added to Ba'al's forces, removed two shipyards from his industrial base, and in doing so bolstered our own capabilities."

"You acted without thought for the repercussions of your action! We were formulating a response that would have eliminated the threat without causing further problems, and now you have ruined it and caused untold havoc!"

"That's nonsense and you know it. If we had been even a day later in our own plan, it would be the Morrigan with those ships, and in all likelihood once she had them she would have killed thousands or even millions to ensure that the new mines were worthless to Ba'al." Sam smirked. "As it is, both system lords probably lost several ships in the battle, which only occurred because we were there."

Delek shook his head. "And there you demonstrate your short-sightedness. What if the Morrigan had been killed in battle? Ba'al would now have her territory."

"Only if Amaterasu and Olokun would stand by and let him take it all."

"It may not matter! How long do you think it will take them to realize there was a third party involved? Your escape was hardly subtle at all. We might even see an alliance formed between them because of this."

"Sir, there's no way you can be sure about that," Cam said. "There's a lot of bad blood between Ba'al and the Morrigan, they're not going to just toss it aside overnight."

"At least we are thinking of the possibility, which is more than can be said of you!" Delek snarled. He looked to Sam again. "If you think that you and Jolinar can escape censure this time, Samantha, you are sadly mistaken. Do not think that I am unaware of who alerted you to our intelligence, either. We will deal with Martouf and Lantash, and I assure you that we will thoroughly investigate to see who else in this room took part in the operation knowing that it was not sanctioned."

Cam bristled. "Now listen here. I don't care who you are, I am not going to let you walk in here and threaten my people."

"They are not your people! They are Tok'ra, and if they did not wish to accept the responsibilities that entails then they should not have joined us!"

"You do not get to define who can and cannot be Tok'ra," Jolinar responded. "We are all children of Egeria and these are our chosen hosts, whether you approve or not."

Aldwin stepped forward. "Councilor. Colonels. Please, we are all comrades here; we should not be fighting. Delek, I realize that you are angry, but you must see that we had to act quickly and there was no time to consult the Council and wait for deliberations. We also did get permission from our superiors here. I understand that is less than optimal, but surely in light of our victory there's no need to talk of censure and punishment."

Delek glared at him. "I must say, Aldwin, I am most disappointed with you. I expect this behavior from Jolinar, but you have always been a sensible and careful man. It is clear that blending with such a young host from an immature people has addled your brains."

After a staring at Delek in shock for a few moments, Elliot said, "With all due respect, Councilor, you can go fuck yourself."

"Now, Lieutenant, there's no call for that kind of language," Cam said chidingly. "Besides, it'd be a bit redundant given the huge, spiked stick up his ass. Or maybe it's a cactus, I can't tell."

"You may hide behind impudence for now, but I can guarantee that you will regret your actions," Delek said. He spun around and snapped to his escorts, "Tok'ra, kree! Salnek tal chappa'ai!" They strode down the corridor, the SFs following behind.

"Well, that could have gone better," Cam said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Doctor Weir, I apologize for letting my temper get the better of me like that. I'm sorry if it causes you any problems."

Weir shook her head, and while Cam was probably imagining it, there was a ghost of a smile on her face. "As far as I'm concerned, that was an internal Tok'ra matter, and how you speak with each other is for you to decide. I will say, though, that even if the High Council doesn't think you did well, I do, and I'm sure General Hammond and the president will agree with me. I can assure you that I'll do everything in my power to see to it there are no repercussions."

"Thank you, ma'am," Cam said. "Anything you can do to smooth things over would be welcome. If you'll excuse us, we probably need to talk about damage control ourselves."

"Of course. If there's anything you need, let me know."

Weir walked off, while other Tok'ra began poking their heads out of the safety of their offices and started to meander down to the break room. As everyone began settling down, Cam took a look around at them all. They were, to a man, woman, and snake, a bunch of neurotic, insane, and sneaky basket cases, but they were also brilliant, brave, and loyal. Part of Cam still ached for the squadron he had been forced to leave behind, but if he had to replace them he couldn't have asked for a better group. He didn't think he would mind calling them family for the next three or four hundred years. Of course, that meant dealing with Delek too, but Cam figured that they'd just have prove him utterly and completely wrong about everything.

"You know what?" Cam said. "I'm not in the mood for this. Screw paperwork, screw Delek's temper tantrum, let's talk about something fun and exciting we can do to show that we are, in fact, awesome no matter what the council thinks. Anyone got any ideas?"

"Actually, I've been reviewing some data from the Antarctic site and NARCISSUS while thinking of things to do with my new ship," Sam said after a moment. "Have you ever heard of Atlantis?"

**Author's Note:**

> Enhanced content:  
> [Fanmix](http://laetificat.livejournal.com/147502.html) by Laetificat  
> [Fanvid](http://purple-dolphin9.livejournal.com/29066.html) by purple_dolphin9


End file.
